Where the River Flows
by Silent Sigh
Summary: Misty, Ash and the Pokemon meet up with a girl, Hazel, from Cerulean City who harbours a shady past. But, as they are soon to find, the past, present and future can all be riddled with uncertainty...
1. Making ways, Telling tales

Well, it's almost the end of the Summer, so I guess it's about time I started something new! This is a new fic, with my first Original Character in a fic (Cheers loudly). It's going to begin as a PG to PG-13, but probably end up as an R. At least, if it goes how I think it might...Anyhow, enough of my babbling.  
  
This is the basic set out for the story :  
  
"Words spoken by humans"  
  
("Words spoken by Pokemon")  
  
The POV is mostly first-person, changing between characters. All POV changes occur between paragraphs, not mid-paragraph. Also, if a Pokemon speaks but the POV is that of someone who can't understand them, the words spoken aren't given. (Logically).  
  
*These indicate thoughts*  
  
A couple more notes - Chikorita is a main character in this fic. She has evolved in the anime, but I love her as she is. Plus Pikachu is female - it seems according to Pokemon Silver Pikachu is in fact male, but I've always written her as female and I'll only confuse myself if I do otherwise. Also, the characters are a few years older in this fic - Both Ash and Misty are sixteen.  
  
Well, Here goes, again.  
  
Disclaimer - All characters in this fic are owned by the owners and proprietors of Pokemon, except Hazel who is mine.  
  
  
  
Where the River Flows - Chapter I  
  
  
  
11.45 PM, 20th July: Dear diary, it's night time now, but it doesn't make much difference to me. Nothing makes much difference to me right now. Logic says sleep, my body says sleep, my mind asks me "But what if I don't wake up?" And then it asks "Will it make much of a difference? Will it matter?" I can't answer that. And nothing worse than the question you are always asking yourself, but never able to answer. Especially one such as this. I know it will make a difference to the ones I travel with, but at the same time, how much? They'd still have one another, and one of them never seems to notice the outside world right now, not in the form of people. Always what will happen next, and where. Not what is happening now, or who it is happening to.. ..And the fire has just gone out. I hope that I'm still writing on the lines. It doesn't matter really. What does? That question again. It's a draught, a breeze which pushes a glass, my glass to the edge of the table, where it teeters on the brink. To be seen by a caring eye, or to slip from the edge and shatter on the floor? Or can it be seen, but the eyes are uncaring? Or do they assume the glass will not break? Can't they see the glass is fine as moonlight, the ground hard and unforgiving? I'm babbling now, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. What does?  
  
  
  
I suppose that I could get back in time for supper.. ...if I could only get that thing down from that damn tree.. .. My firey hair washes across my shoulders, aquamarine eyes straining to pick out exactly where it had landed. The tree in question, a dense evergreen, just seems to laugh at me by swaying lazily in the wind. It sways, all the branches move, but it still seems singularly determined to hold on to its prize. A red and white cap. Ashs cap. The cap Ash'd leant to me when I went to collect some herbs to try and add depth to the increasingly thin soup and dodgy rice which is our supper. I suppose it may seem insignificant, but I'd been stunned by his show of faith. This cap has more history than a library. He said that since I'm red-headed with pale skin that I should "Wear the cap, to keep some of the sun off." Well, we'd been travelling all day, and I had been suffering a little. It is June, after all. He took over cooking duty tonight, and I'd gone off on this mission. Ever since our old friend Brock settled down just this winter, we've had to sustain ourselves. Ashs concoctions have been of varying quality, while mine have been consistent. And you ask why I'm not doing the cooking? Well, they are consistant, but consistantly tasting like dog food.  
  
("Erm, Misty, I'm hungry as well y'know. This isn't the time to be dozing off.. ..") A voice snaps me from my reminisence, to see Cyndaquil peering up at me. I don't know why he ended up coming with me, Chikorita would have been a more logical choice, her expertise with plants considered. Also, she'd have been a star for getting this cap out of the tree, if I could spot it that is. Cyndaquil just appears short-sighted, but he isn't a whiz at herbology, or climbing for that matter (although I don't think that was of importance at the time we left). He just decided to. Just then another gust of breeze stirs the tree, displaying the cap about twenty feet up. Hmmmm.  
  
"Okay, I see it. Could you go back to the camp and see if you can get Chikorita here without disturbing Ash? I know she's usually all over him like a rash, but try your best." He nods once, and trots off. At least he has good directional sense, he can find his way back easy enough. Heads I'd get lost, tails I'd actually find my own way back. I'm not about to take that risk. I could follow my nose to the cooking smell, but it's not exactly reliable either. I'll just sit here on a tree stump, fiddle with one of the red shoulder straps of my top, and work out a plan B. The cap getting up there in the first place was a total freak event. I think the mischevous bird, the Spearow in question, was having a laugh. The bird decided to swoop down and pinch it right off my head. Soon as it did, the seemingly insignificant foot-high shape beside me had lit the bright fire quils on his dark back, and shot a marksman sharp lick of fire over it. Cue frantic sqwaking and flying headfirst into a tree, tail smouldering. It shot out the far side like an exocet, without a trace of hat, and disappeared into the forest trailing smoke. Stupid thing.  
  
("...This one?") I look down again and see Chikorita, shaped like a small dog with pale green fur laying flat, sat beside Cyndaquil.  
  
"Yeah, you can just see it about twenty feet up, on this side." She shoots a glance up to me, and giggles. No doubt the ever trusting (and sometimes naive) Cyndaquil has filled her in from start to end. I will see the funny side, as soon as she gets the thing down. Until then, it's angry Misty.  
  
"Look, there's not enough time to be fuss-arsing around, the sooner we get this down.. .." She interjects, a cocky look to her smile.  
  
("You mean the sooner YOU get it down.. ..") I growl and grit my teeth. She's right, but I didn't need that comment right now.  
  
"Okay, yes. Just do it. Please." A please through gritted teeth never carries the same sincerity, but she just smiles at me once more before sprouting two vines from her neck and reaching up with them to snare the offending object. The bow she takes is a little extravagant, but I'm too relieved to care. Just one little thing more to take care of.  
  
"Right you two, a single word to Ash about this, and.. .." I leave the threat open, and they both obediently nod. Who am I kidding, it'll slip out at some time during the evening, and I'll end up looking a little silly. But when the evenings are long and warm, and the sun sets for hours, there have to be words to fill the silence. The five of us in the group make good work, but the departure of the sixth member has left a few lines empty. About all of our souls have been spilt, we know each other better than ourselves to be honest. Everyone has things they will always hide, but I think that many of the things which Ash has told me would have rather surprised his mother. They surprised me. Especially the one about.. ..nah, that's for my ears only. Not even Pikachu knows that. Speaking of Pikachu, she's sitting by the fire and looking a little cross. She's hungry too, we all are. Whether you're an eighteen-inch yellow electric mouse who looks like a rabbit or a teenage girl twenty-four hours without food is enough to spark an appetite. God, I have to stop thinking about my stomach, it's starting to dominate my life! I chuckle to myself at the thought, earning a glance from the brown eyes of the figure stirring the pot. There's a touch of reproach in them, but then again he has been spending the last quater of an hour trying to stop the rice from boiling dry and the tea from boiling over.  
  
"Glad to see you could join us." I answer the sardonic tone from Ashs light voice with a sarcastic nod.  
  
"It's an honour."I sit down on the floor as Cyndaquil gets the bowls ready, Pikachu hopping over to help with the cups. Chikorita, the most dexterous of the lot of us, pours the tea out, and then assists Ash with the ladling. He gives the three of them a quick pat in thanks as he lays their food out before each of them, before dishing out our own.  
  
"So, care to explain why you've been off for almost forty minutes and then returning without anything? I was staring to get worried." I blow on the hot soup contemplating my reply. The truth? A lie? A jest at his caring words (for old times sake) ? Bingo.  
  
("She was getting your hat down from a tree.") Before I can open my mouth Chikorita is straight in. She's not in my good books right now.  
  
".. ..Okay. A lot of questions come to mind, like how did my hat end up in a tree? But I'm sure you'll kindly answer them all.. .." The humored way he says those words takes off any edge they might have carried, and I chuckle to myself.  
  
("I'll help!") Cyndaquil pipes up from my left, before choking on his food. As Pikachu slaps him on the back to dislodge the offending rice, I wonder if he'll ever learn to not speak with his mouth full.  
  
("I could do with a laugh.") Pikachu sits back on her haunches, looking interested. I let my eyes drift, over Chikorta who just keeps on eating with one eye on Pikachus almost untouched plate, Cyndaquil wiping the tears from his eyes having dislodged the mis-swallowed mouthful. And finally they drift to Ash, who meets them. Then it comes as a little jolt, he hasn't met them, he was looking at me already.. ..he realises this about the same point I do, but just smiles slightly.  
  
"Go on, we're all ears." I look down to my dish, letting my own grin grow.  
  
"Well, there's not a lot to tell really.. .."  
  
  
  
Now all the laughter has died away Misty is looking a touch embarrased, and Pikachu is through shocking Chikorita for attempting to filch her food, silence has descended. I guess I've taken the understanding of the Pokemons language for granted, it's nights like these when just two people would be hard pressed to prevent boredom creeping in. It's taken years of travelling with the three of them as a group to understand them all well. Pikachu has always been riding shotgun upon my shoulders, but Chikorita with typical stubborness decided that it was the life for her as well. Then Cyndaquil asked rather more politely if he could stay out of his pokeball. And so to the situation we find ourselves in. I've just turned Sixteen, and we're god knows where. The party was a bit of an anti-climax, the 'Highlight' a single candle in a single cup-cake. It was our last cup-cake, and we had been on the road for over a week. Splitting it into five equal slices was the hard part. Well, I'm not going to just wolf it myself. Maybe I would years ago, but people change with time. Misty kept on apologising time after time that it was her fault we were out here. We are out here for her, but it's not like I hold it against her in any way. She went through so much with me that I probably owe her twenty years of my time, and I don't mind giving it to her either. I told her that it doesn't matter, I never wanted a big thing anyway. I felt the same at One AM aged Sixteen as I did ninety minutes previously aged Fifteen. I idly watch Misty clearing away the plates in the fading summer light, brushing black hair out of my eyes. To be honest, singing acapella-styled Karaoke with hummed music and telling stories was better than a Disco and dance followed by my mother telling everyone about the first time I learned to ride a bike. One little anecdote about a husband and wife in a car is one I'll keep in store for parties to come.  
  
("It's a gorgeous evening.") Pikachu settles beside me, and twitches her ears as I reach over to scratch between them.  
  
"It is indeed. And it'll be a nice day tomorrow, the sky is red." My tone changes from relaxed to probing. "Now are you sure you're happy about this competition break? I don't want to hold you back." She shakes her head, voice reassuring.  
  
("No, a break will probably do us good. I'm pleased we're not pushing too hard. After winning the Indigo league at our third attempt, it would have been too tempting to storm on to the Elite four. We need to develop more before we go for the stars.") A fair comment. My rival, Gary, he won the league at his second attempt. He went straight on, not considering his path, and got hammered by the elite. That year was a humbling experience, getting beaten badly myself in an early round through cockiness and then seeing my rival cruise through before being beaten soundly himself. But it taught me a valuable lesson, a lesson I should not have needed. Patience is a virtue.  
  
("Besides, it's not as if we haven't got time to enjoy life. We're all young, and don't have responsibilities, except to each other. Soon as we bust in at the top, it's going to tie us down.") Cyndaquil chips in, joining us. I sense more than hear Misty sit down beside me on the other side from Pikachu, and a disgruntled humph from Chikorita who probably had designs on that spot.  
  
"I suppose I've got away with this lifestyle for too long. I can't stay free forever, none of us can. Besides, one day I'd quite like a house and family of my own, although the mortgage isn't something I'm looking forward to." Chikorita, now sitting directly in front of me with her back to the smouldering fire, gives me a quizzical look. "It's basically the massive loan you have to take out to buy a house, and seem to spend the rest of your days repaying it." I fill in quickly, and she nods in understanding. She then gives me a definite "Pick me up" look, one I comply to.  
  
("I wonder what it's like, all that responsibility.") She murmurs lazily, wriggling into my grasp while earning a scorned glance from Pikachu. She's always considered Chikorita to be too posessive, perhaps because I'm the one she's trying to possess.  
  
"Well, I know someone I can ask." I turn my head to my left, and look at Misty. She's deep in thought, already considering her answer. I can see it in her eyes, it's not her favourite subject, anything which was previous to meeting me is not.  
  
"It's not all bad, there are satisfactions to it. Like one of the few days when, after I'd done my job meeting trainers and the paperwork, I looked over the Gym when I turned out the lights and thought 'I've done a good job today, I'm proud to be doing what I am.' But then some relative who shall remain nameless goes and spends it all." Yes, I can see it in her face. Responsibility is something she's had enough of. Perhaps that's why she chose this lifestyle. "It'd just be a nightmare." She continues woefully, fingers working at each other with characteristic nervousness when we're combing her past. "I guess you still remember that I blamed the loss of my bike to follow you Ash, well in fact to start off with it was because I didn't want responsibility. Defending the honour of the Gym and it's debts, at the age of Ten, along with a few other incidents - it was too much. When I met you I just latched onto you and let you lead my life. Followed you so I didn't have to lead my own life, be responsible for my own fate. Now, now it's different, I'm finally beginning to make my own way again." Without realising I've reached out and put my arm around her, and she's leaning into my shoulder, red hair flowing laconically down my back. Eventually she notes my action, and gives my hand a quick squeeze of thanks.  
  
("Sounds like I don't want it.") Chikorita sniffs, sounding worried.  
  
("You won't have it you plonker. It's not like you'll end up running a Gym.") Pikachu replies haughtily.  
  
("And you're any more likely?") Well, here we go.  
  
("Nope, but I'm not too dim to realise the fact.") Chikorita growls at the sharp retort, and snaps straight back.  
  
("The only bright sparks you have come from your cheeks.") Pikachu jumps around from her seat to my right with feline grace to face down Chikorita, who glowers straight back from my lap.  
  
("This coming from someone who doesn't know what a mortgage is?")  
  
("Yeah, well, you don't know the meaning of photosynthesis, so don't go thinking you're so smart!") I would break this up, but I'm quite enjoying it, plus I'm rather comfortable right now. Cyndaquil is also enjoying the little competition, and I'm sure he's smart enough to not get in the way.  
  
("Why in the name of thunder would I need to know? You use it for gods sake, but I don't!")  
  
("So why would I need to know the meaning of mortgage then?") Nice counter. Pikachu is stumped.  
  
("Bravo! Twenty points to the winner!") Cyndaquil chirps, before noticing the glares he's now receiving from both of them. I think he's looking for somewhere to hide, just in case....  
  
"Ah well, back to the present." Misty breathes in my ear, before getting up. I don't know why she's moving exactly, it's one of those limbo moments just after supper in a long evening, where it's too bright to get a fire going but too late to do much else. "The examination papers are coming up in a short while, so do you think you could test me again?" I nod, and she throws over a book, one I've gotten to know as well as her. 'Physiology and Pathology of Water Pokemon'. She's out here in the area of the Great lakes of North Kanto, home of all sorts of freshwater species, to gain experience with them and study. She's got entrance exams to study specialist nursing for aquatic species. I'm here to help officially, but I know, she knows, and we both know each other knows I'm here for her. And she likes the attention.  
  
"Okay, go to the section on Totodile, and I'll see if I can work out some common ailments and treatments." I obligingly flick to the page, only looking up to see Chikorita chasing Cyndaquil for some (probably inoccous) comment. Eyes down again, and -  
  
"What is the most often seen serious physical injury in a Totodlie after full maturity?" Her eyes flick skyward, thumbs pressed together in front of her red clad chest.  
  
"Ummm, I think it's a torn Achillies Tendon." Correct.  
  
"And why?" Again the skyward glance, thumbs pressed together.  
  
".. ..Totodiles are very agile and have great jumping ability, but as a result they place a lot of strain on their relatively small legs, especially the lower leg flexors and tendons." Spot on.  
  
"You really are good at this." I shoot her a smile, one she blushes at slightly.  
  
"Well, practise makes perfect." Pikachu lands with a puff of dust between us before scampering off, pursued by the other two. God knows what they're playing, but at least they're happy.  
  
"Okay, Gyarados. What are it's main inherent health problems due to it's evolution from the far smaller Magikarp?" No pause here, she's straight in.  
  
"The massive elongation of the spine leads to arthritis with increasing age, and the blood supply to the head can be impaired by rapid muscular growth along the neck." Yep.  
  
"Okay. Why does a headache increase the psychic abilities of a Psyduck?" This time her brow knits, struggling for an answer.  
  
"It's uh, it's um.. .." She falters, before giving me a shrug.  
  
"Well, it's reasoned that the psychic abilities come from the head, so it's also reasoned that pain in the head increases the focus of conscious attention to the area where the psychic abilities are generated. This amplifies the conscious effect on the generated psychic force." I slide her a glance, one she replies to with a sigh and a winsome smile.  
  
"You know, I don't think I'll ever understand Psyduck." I would be tempted to enter these exams myself, it'd be interesting. I know by now training and travelling cannot last forever, and that nursing would be a good future. I'd do well too, I've learnt as much as Misty has, I've always had a way with Pokemon. But I couldn't do it to her. It's her dream, and I couldn't jump on her back. Just imagine, if by some freak chance she missed out while I got in.. ..I wouldn't do it to her.  
  
("Aren't most of those taking the exam over eighteen?") Cyndaquil puffs, flopping down looking completely nackered.  
  
"Yeah." I add, waiting for her answer.  
  
"Doesn't mean I'm not good enough. I ran a gym at age ten, I'm sure I'm able to do it." Her confident tone leaves me hanging. I want to tell her that she shouldn't get her hopes too high, she hasn't had a real education, and that counts in examinations. Sure she's got lots of experience, but experience isn't always by the book. On the other hand I want to be her chief cheerleader, and crow her to the point she thinks she can fly. But, my mind reminds me, those who only think they can fly before their wings are ready come back down to earth with a bump.  
  
("Yeah, I'm sure you can do it.") Pikachu puts in, also panting. She moves near to me, then flops down in a similar manner to Cyndaquil. Whatever they were playing has worn the lot of them out.  
  
("After all, you don't need to read from the book, unlike Ash.") Chikorita gasps cheekily, before competing the triplet of belly-flops.  
  
"Thank you for the vote of confidence." Misty smiles, before giving me a wink.  
  
"And thank you for the comment, Chikorita. No more snuggles for you this week.. .." She gives me a pitiful look, added to by giggles from the other Pokemon.  
  
"Snuggles?" Misty is curious. It's my turn for embarrasement.  
  
"Well, it's when, uh, one of them is allowed to cuddle up to me in my sleeping bag."  
  
"Awwwww, how cute!" I'm not sure if her voice is mocking or genuine. I don't mind either way.  
  
"Care to try.. ..another question?" Oh my god, oh my god. I almost ended that with 'it yourself?'. Anyway, enough of that. I'm here to help Misty get through this exam!  
  
"Right." She gives me a coy glance, before getting back on the subject. "Something on purely aquatic Pokemon?"  
  
"What about.. .."  
  
  
  
I'm bored, and I'm tired. I've had enough of Ash and Misty shooting questions at each other. I've had enough of Chikorita playing "I spy". I've had enough of Cyndaquil snoring. I want some action. I wasn't exactly lying when I told Ash earlier that I didn't mind the delay, but I wasn't entirely telling the truth. Back in the early days, just travelling brought adventure and excitement. Now, I just can't settle. I'm full of energy, trained so well that I can't not train. Chikorita is instantly fascinated by everything, and Cyndaquil is too laid back to get edgy. I'm full of nervous tension.  
  
"Pikachu, you okay?" Misty peers at me from where she's unrolling her sleeping stuff in the gathering dusk, concern in her voice. I realise why - my cheeks are sparkling with unspent energy.  
  
("Yeah, no problem. Just a bit hyper charged.") She looks over my head, and smiles.  
  
"I think that you'll feel a bit better in a moment."  
  
("Huh?") She turns back to her work as I feel Ash pick me up, and then set me down on my back, on his sleeping bag.  
  
"Let's see if I can't loosen a little of that tension.. .." He slowly begins to massage my face, from top to the sides, and then down. I let out a vague squeak of pleasure, and settle down.  
  
("Hey! There's someone here!") Looks like the bliss is going to be short- lived. Chikorita scurries to my side, rounding to face where she'd come from. A loud rustling, and.. ..  
  
"Man, am I glad to be outta there!" A girl, a little shorter than Ash, emerges from the undergrowth. She pulls a few branches out of her red t- shirt, still muttering and oblivious to our presence. "Damn, it was quick. I'm sure it came this way though. Odd to see one around here, but why did it have to run me into a holly bush?!" She picks a final leaf out of her bushy brown hair, and takes a deep breath, before finally looking up. And looking a bit embarrased.  
  
"Uh, hi.. .." Misty begins, before Chikorita gives up her silent struggle and bursts out laughing. I can't help it, I'm joining in too.  
  
"What's so funny? Me? Nice of you to laugh at other peoples misfortunes!" Her eyes flick up to Ash, and face moves into a scowl. "Care to tell them to shut up?" Ash just gives her a small smile.  
  
"I'm not ordering them around, this isn't some battle. Besides, that was kinda funny."  
  
"So you're going to laugh too! Well, I'll just challenge you to a battle with my next capture, let's see how funny you find that!"  
  
"Uh, haven't you already lost whatever it was you were after?" Mistys innocent question earns her the right to be glared at next.  
  
"Oh yeah, did you see - Ah hah!" She sprints past me, shrugging off her shoulder bag, and I hop up to see what she' s after.  
  
("Oh shit.") Cyndaquil mutters, straight in the path of the girls run. Then it clicks, he isn't in the way. He's the target. Ash is trying to shout out, but she's already got an empty Pokeball in her hand, poised to throw.  
  
("Drop it!") Chikoritas vines lash out, and snare her wrist in mid-throw. For effect, Cyndaquil toasts the fallen Pokeball, setting alight to the grass at her feet in the process. Whoops. I would be alarmed, if I wasn't laughing my head off.  
  
"Erm miss, you really shouldn't go messing with the Pokemon. They are rather fond of each other." Misty giggles, as the newcomer dances around trying to cool down her smouldering feet. Eventually she rips off her footwear and ankle socks, and sits in her jeans with feet in the air, attempting to cool them off.  
  
"Here, let me help you with that." Ash releases Totodile, asking him to run some cold water over her feet. He does, but typically, with a little too much enthusiasm. Result, the feet are wet, but so are her jeans, shirt, and hair. Needless to say, it doesn't improve her temper.  
  
"Jesus, if I'd wanted a bath I'd have said so!" She picks up her shoes, and examines them. "And these trainers were only new a week ago! Do you have any idea how much Nikes cost these days?" Not waiting for an answer, she throws them down and glowers at Ash. "You're going to pay for those!" Ash has a little patience, but I think it's wearing thin.  
  
"And are you going to pay the fine for trying to steal a Pokemon from me? Do you have any idea how much fines cost these days?" Everyone sniggers as she looks abashed. "Tell you what, since you're obviously a beginner and didn't really know he was with me, we'll call it quits. Yes?" She growls for a moment, but nods.  
  
("I'll help you with the damp problem!") Cyndaquil flares up, with the energy to warm me up from yards away.  
  
".. ..Wha?" She looks noneplussed, but I think she has the idea.  
  
("But don't think I'll forget this!") Chikorita adds haughtily, and Ash translates. The girl looks impressed. "Well, since I'm not going anywhere tonight with my clothes saturated, I guess I should at least know you're names." Not backwards at coming forwards, is she?  
  
"Well, I'm Misty from Cerulean City." Misty slips on a tiny I-don't-know- you-but-you-scare-me smile.  
  
("Cynda-queel!")  
  
("Chiko!")  
  
("Pikachu!")  
  
"I think those need no translation. And I'm Ash, from the town of Pallet." She nods, just taking us in, Misty in particular.  
  
"Well, I'm Hazel Thornton, from Cerulean too. You don't happen to be one of the Williams sisters?" Misty just nods in response. "Well, you're obviously the odd one out.. .." She turns away to Ash again, and I see Mistys face fall. It probably wasn't meant to be malicious, but that was a bad way to put a comment.  
  
"Why are you out here? Just a newcomer?" Ash asks, settling down on the other side of Cyndaquil in the fast fading light.  
  
"What makes you say that?" Hazel asks, brown eyes narrowing again. She sure has a suspicious streak.  
  
"Oh, come on. You're up here, with no real posessions, just a small bag for one shoulder, wearing ridiculously new clothes without a patch on them." Misty puts in, still stung from the earlier remark.  
  
"Yeah, and when you saw a Pokemon just then you just chased it. Now that either means you're not used to using Pokemon or you don't have any. And believe me, both of those can be costly mistakes in the wild." Ash finishes, running an eye over her. "What if you'd run into something six foot high with sharp claws?" She's taken aback, realisation of how dumb she's just been.  
  
"I guess I'd have run very fast in the other direction!"  
  
"The only reason Cyndaquil didn't set alight to your eyebrows was because he's a gentleman, Chikorita would have probably kneecapped you." Chikorita, stuck with the double-sided comment, eventually nods.  
  
"I think you've tried to rush into things, yes? You're four days walk from Cerulean, and those are clean clothes. You haven't got much space for things in that bag, either." Misty goes over to it, picking it up to test its weight. "Yeah, I'd say three changes of clothes. And two days food. Now clothes you can re-wear, sure your mother may have a fit about the you-know- whats.. .." - She slides Ash a wink - ".. ..but corner shops are few and far between fifty miles from the nearest town." Hazel doesn't say a word for a moment, dropping gaze to the floor. Eventually, more to herself than us, she moans quietly.  
  
"Looks like they were right after all." She hasn't counted on my ears picking her up.  
  
("What do you mean by "they"?") Ash, who has gained sharp hearing from years in the wilderness, puts what he heard of the mumbled sentence and my comment together.  
  
"Did someone tell you this was a bad idea?" He shuffles closer to her, sensing the mood darken.  
  
"Just about everyone I know. You may have noticed that I'm not a Ten year old, I'm Thirteen. But it was just five days ago I got my first Pokemon, my starter. Everyone said I was too childish, too headstrong and impulsive. They were right.. ..And why the hell am I telling you this?!" She finishes, backing away from Ash, voice growing angry again. One of the abilities Ash and Misty have learned through long lonely nights - getting each other and anyone else to talk.  
  
"Is that all?" Misty glances to Ash, recieving a nod of approval. That means he's going to let her embarrass him. "In the first twenty-four hours of his trip, Ash half-drowned, destroyed my bike, and nearly got killed by a flock of Spearow, and got a Centre burnt to the ground. I'd say you're doing a little better than that."  
  
"Hey!" Ash replies in mock-anger. "I'm still here, and so are you, so I guess I'm doing alright!"  
  
"Barely." Misty answers flatly. "That first day one was one of the tame ones."  
  
"Don't be so sarcastic! I didn't ask to be shot at, frozen, shocked, burnt, dropped, etcetera, etcetera. And it wasn't always my fault!" Hazels eyes are growing to the size of steak platters, half at the rate of the comments being thrown back and fore, and half at wonder as to what they mean.  
  
"Whose was it then? I don't remember myself causing any trouble!" Misty teases, smiling all the while.  
  
"Yeah, like last year? When we were heading to the league and you almost got arrested for-"  
  
"Hey! I thought that was a secret between us! Well, us, and the local police!" Now Ash is the one smiling, while Misty has gone the shade of ripe cherry.  
  
"You always said it was an accident, but I know that you had a few to many drinks, about a dozen too many. Birthday or not, it was a bit audacious!" Now all four of us are listening closely. Chikorita said Misty couldn't look Ash in the eye the next morning, not after he'd whispered a few words to her anyway.  
  
"It was your fault for letting me get that way!" That was a growl, I think that she's getting worried.  
  
"You were sixteen, you were supposed to be able to look after yourself. Besides, I did help you. Remember?" He blushes light red, her as bright as a snooker ball.  
  
"I'm sure that was only so you could have a-a.. ..look.. ..and say it was in my best interests." She throws a definite glance at the four of us who are now in a close group and watching with rapt attention, as if to scream 'Not in front of them!'  
  
"That's below the belt. I believe you blamed a belt, yes? Something about the fancy dress for the party, and a snapped belt.. .." He moves closer to her, cheeky grin splashed across his face.  
  
"But it did!" Her tone changes, quietning into something silky and secretive.  
  
"Just keep telling yourself that. I always knew you were a bit of an extrovert." Ashs voice drops to a purr, probably to prevent us from hearing. But as I said already, I have very good hearing.. .. "And an exhibitionist too.. .." Hello.  
  
"Weeelllll, I guess I did get a bit over-excited. And ridiculously drunk on Tequila." She mewles back, casting a look to the rest of us to make sure we haven't moved.  
  
"Well, the police in the helicopter said when Cinderella appeared on the roof of the Gym they thought she was searching for her slipper. They didn't expect her to flash them.. ..Or for Prince Charming to appear with a look of shock before persuading her to return into the building." Something makes them break off. I think it's my hysterical giggling. The legend of the 16th birthday exposed!  
  
("Uh, okay, have you been drinking too much caffiene Pikachu?") Chikorita asks, clueless. Meanwhile, Mistys jaw has dropped and Ash has a calculating look on his face. Probably calculating the required bribe. I'm not going to succumb to bribery! Unless it's a very good offer, that is.  
  
  
  
"Well, I suppose I need more practise." I look from Ash, to the Pokemon, and to Misty. I get the feeling we've got off on the wrong foot. I guess it was when I released my Charmander which I'd recieved as my starter, and she asked me why I'd not gone for the water choice, being from Cerulean. I'd told her I thought water types were dull. She wasn't impressed.  
  
"Everyone has to start somewhere." Ash points out to me, poking the now happily cracking fire with a long stick.  
  
"Even if it is a false start." Misty adds, not bothering to hide the snide element to her voice. Yeah, definitely off on the wrong foot.  
  
"Enough, I know, I'm an idiot. Everyone told me that when I was Ten, so I couldn't get started. And when I got my approval to start. And just before I left. So I don't need reminding." I guess I'm sounding a bit like a bratty kid, but I don't care.  
  
"Hey, take it easy." Ash puts a hand on my shoulder, and for some reason I calm down. Odd. Normally I need at least a half-hour to cool off over anything. Pikachu lets off a stream of chatter, which makes the others smile. Well, except Misty, who is still refusing to let her guard down.  
  
"Care to fill me in on that?" Ash nods to Pikachu, who nods back.  
  
"She just said that everyone starts out as an idiot." He smiles, and after letting the comment sink in, I smile too. Chikorita shuffles over to Ash, murmurs something, and Ash whispers something back. Then Chikorita turns and throws what sounds like a question to the others and Mistys face grows harder still. Pikachu responds with a nod, and Cyndaquil a cautious but positive squeak. Then all eyes turn to Misty, who, after shooting a skyward glance, gives a curt nod.  
  
"You know, you could always tell me what you're talking about, then perhaps I could add to the conversation myself.. .." I mutter angrily, feeling like I was being left out. Sort of like sitting by the fire, but not being illuminated by it's light, or warmed by its heat, excluded.  
  
"Sorry Hazel, but it was more for them to decide." Ash turns back to me, and looks into my eyes carefully for a moment. I just wait for him to continue. "Well, if you want, you could come with us for a while. We've been doing this for Six years, we know quite a bit. And we've got food, plenty of it, and we know how to do the washing, spot when it'll rain, when to stay and where to go. It'd probably help you." He casts a glance to Misty, before continuing in a gentle voice. "And I know you two haven't started well, but give it time. Whenever you wanted to, you could leave us. But you'll have trouble getting anywhere without enough food, and little experience. So, what do you say?" I don't know what to say. I never expected something like this. I came out here as much to get away from people, and the criticisms they constantly make, as anything else. But Ash is an experienced trainer, and he seems really nice. But on the other hand, Misty seems like a total bitch. And I'll keep on getting excluded whenever a Pokemon starts talking. But I like Ash, and I have to admit it to myself, I need his help. But then I'd be tied down again...  
  
"Could you give me tonight to think it over?" Ash just smiles warmly, before noddng. I don't need tonight, I know what the answer is already. Of course I'm going to go with them. I want to find out what all those stories they alluded to are, and learn what it takes to do this, and if I have it. But damn my pride, it won't let me say it, not without putting up a facade. Oh well, I guess I'll have to wait.  
  
"Where's you're sleeping bag?" Mistys clear voice cuts through my daze of tiredness, and I look up to see her staring at my bag, having weighed up if it could conceal some sort of minature sleeping bag-ette type thing, before deciding no.  
  
"Why would I need a sleeping bag? It's June." I state, before seeing Ash and Misty throw each other a glance, one which just screams "newbie".  
  
"It's only June Thirty days of the year." Misty, for the first time, isn't being sarcastic. Amused is a bit of an improvement.  
  
"Is it Thirty? Or Thirty-one?" Ash mumbles that rhyme under his breath - "Thirty days have September, April, June - Yep, Thirty."  
  
"So? Then it's July, and August, all Summer months." I point out.  
  
"Hazel, you're on a mountain. Mountains equal cold, even at lower levels." Ash is trying not to laugh again, but I just sigh.  
  
"Okay, I know, I'm an idiot." But tomorrow, I'm making a promise to myself. Promising that I will be an idiot no longer, and show all of those who doubted me how wrong they were....  
  
  
  
Well, that's all for now.  
  
Hope the spelling is okay, thanks to Cultnirvana and Heironeous for their beta-reading! I guess I should've installed word properly when I re-booted my PC. Damn Wordpad, no spellcheckers....  
  
Anyway, I hope to get going on the next chapter, but it might take a while. I'll try!  
  
Don't forget to review  
  
Dan 


	2. Conflicts and Pictures

Here's Chapter 2. Hopefully I'll get a few more reviews, but I'll keep on writing anyway, I do it because I love it! Big thanks to Cultnirvana and Heironeous for their reading and checking, and advice. As well as listening to me agonising over things for too long! Also, thanks to Hallow Shadows and Dragoness, you really made my day. Hope One Heart is nearing completion too, Dragoness!  
  
Disclaimer - I do not own Pokemon, or any of the characters in this fiction, except Hazel. I wish I did, oh boy do I wish!  
  
Well, here goes again.  
  
  
  
Where the River Flows - Chapter II  
  
  
  
2.30AM, July 22nd. Everyone seems to tell me that failure is nothing to be ashamed of, I tried and tried, but right now I'm not cut out for this. They say that you only learn from your mistakes. They repeat time and time again that life isn't over, it isn't the end of the world. But for me, for me it is. Because I've always known, known what they thought I didn't. That failure is for the weak. Who remembers the valiant loser? It's never written in the record books "And so-and-so came a tight second, fighting against the odds to the very end." The one who was once my best friend reminded me once that the reason he was no longer was because I'm weak. My family history is composed of triumphs, never a mention of the endless pitfalls encountered in life. Maybe there'll be time in the future, maybe there'll be a reprieve and I'll go on to my dreams. Or maybe the horse has bolted, the door shut, the case closed. Maybe I'll never find out, not see the future given to me. It's a choice which is always there, sitting on my shoulder, covering me in a shroud. Why am I crying? My tears are a waste, I should've used the energies to help myself, not in useless despair after the fact. I don't know why the other two are still with me, one looks like leaving, she doesn't have time for me any more. I don't see why she should, we got off badly in the first place. It seems so long past. Oh, god, I've just woken someone up, I can hear them moving towards me, I don't want to be seen like this but I can't stop sobbing, just writing and crying, writing an obituary to a life wasted...  
  
  
  
I may be naive, but even I can see that no-one here is sleeping well. Ash is murmuring something about someone or other, and keeps on shifting, tossing and turning like he's been tied up. Pikachu is sparkling with energy and impatience. That sparkling was what woke me earlier. Chikorita is squeaking "Ash!" Over and over. She's told me she's got a recurring nightmare of Ash leaving us, and right now she's smack in the middle of it. The new girl is almost crying, she looks like she's trying to escape. I don't know what from, but she's going to wake everyone else up at this rate. Misty.... is looking at me. When did she wake up?  
  
("Misty, what's up?") I whisper, shuffling over to her.  
  
"Nothing, I'm fine thanks." She sounds odd to me. Like she's got a blocked throat, impaired by the words she's afraid to say.  
  
("....I don't think so.") I take the chance to examine her again. Her eyes are without their usual effervescence, almost pale.  
  
"I am, thank you for asking." She sighs and settles back as if to sleep, but that sigh isn't even fooling me. It's not saying "I'm tired" it's screaming "I'm upset."  
  
("Yeah, right. Come on, you can tell me.") Silence. ("Where is this going to get you? If you want me to promise secrecy, I'll do it.") More silence. I think I'll be pragmatic about this, go back to my place and get the rest of the forty winks I'm due tonight.  
  
"I'm just a bit tense." Well, maybe not. Misty rolls over and props herself up on one elbow, white nightgown hanging loosely in contrast to her tense shoulders, as I plonk myself down by her, trying not to yawn. "It's life catching up with me I guess, I've been avoiding it too long. I'm just thinking about my exam, what do I do if I fail? This far in life I've followed a path, and I'm about to find my own, but what if I find it blocked?" There is an edge of fear, slowly building like an evening shadow, in her voice. I move closer to her, just to let her know I'm here.  
  
("So, what you're saying is, you're scared about your exams, in case you fail.") A bit simplified I know, but I think the best thing to do is realise exactly what you're trying to say, not skirt it like it's a puddle, using metaphors and imagination.  
  
"Yes." The tone wavers, losing balance. "I mean, if I get them, I get in. But what if I don't? I can't see myself working as a waitress for years and years earning a five an hour, or sitting in an office filing faceless numbers. I don't know." Again the wobble, now more pronounced. "But at the same time, it's not my only problem, as there's two sides to the coin...." In the dim light of the summer night, I see her fear in a single tear. It just runs down her face, and she swipes at it irritably. She's always been afraid of displaying weakness.  
  
("Why are you worrying? You're really good, and you'll keep getting better.") I inject as much calm into my reply as possible, sensing her need for it.  
  
"But what if I'm not cut out for this? Am I good enough? I don't know, it seems like I haven't got a hope!" She's sobbing gently now, so I mimic what Ash would do by snuggling into her. I just let her calm down for a few moments, before speaking again.  
  
("It wouldn't be the end of the world Misty. You're a talented woman, how many times have we all come through scrapes together? Everyone has a crisis now and then, but if anyone is strong enough to come though one it's you.") I think I'm getting to her, as she relaxes a little and sniffles.  
  
"Thank you Cyndaquil. I'm sorry I've got you up at this time of night, listening to me whimper." She sniffs again, reaching up to wipe her eyes. "God, I feel like such a fool."  
  
("Hey, it's no prob-") Cue a massive yawn, which erupts from me without a moments warning. ("-lem") She giggles a little.  
  
"You sure do have a big mouth when you're tired."  
  
("So do you, as it happens!") Her eyes narrow a little at me, a look I reflect. Until we both break into smiles.  
  
"I guess we're even then." She reaches out and scratches me between the eyes, and it's almost enough to send me to sleep on the spot.  
  
("Well, if you're feeling better, how about we finish our night's rest?") Another huge yawn from me adds sentiment to my words. She laughs a little, before nodding and easing herself down until she's laying languidly once again. I find myself going out like a light, and before I can think of resisting sleep envelops me with the ease of mist. I think I hear Misty mutter something, just as the world leaves consciousness.  
  
"But the coin will have to land with one face down...."  
  
  
  
Back on my feet again, eyes open to the real world. I hate sleep, at the moment it's more tiring than being awake. Dreams don't have rules, and sometimes they don't have conscience either. I'm currently looking into a hand mirror, seeing brown eyes looking back. That scratch I picked up on my cheek due to the holly bush yesterday isn't showing up much, thank god. I'm not vain, but I can't see the problem with looking the best I can with whatever I've got. In this case, a round-necked purple skinny rib top proclaiming "babe" to the world, and denim trousers. Being messy can be more annoying than the cleaning up is. Misty and Ash both look scraggly, but they carry it well. Well, I think Ash does. I was amazed by the tales which went on last night. I didn't realise Ash and Misty got off so badly in the first place. And stories so bizarre and ridiculous that they just had to be true. I couldn't help feeling angry for a lot of things, that I was kept back for three years when I could have been living this life, that I'd not seen these events, hell, that I'm not Ash or Misty. She seems tense, perhaps it's my presence?  
  
"Hazel, we're going in ten, so get yourself prepared." She calls over to me, before returning attention to her backpack. Why I don't know, it's obvious I'm all set. They can say what they like about my choice of bag and possessions, but they haven't got anything on me when it comes to being able to pack and go fast.  
  
"I'm the only one who isn't rushing around like a blue-arsed fly." I call back, with lots of sarcasm. Misty just looks to the sky, and I can see her counting to ten. Pikachu hops past, having fetched water for our drink bottles and to pour over the dead fire. Ash said it's better to be safe than sorry, as he doesn't want a forest fire because of him.  
  
"Okay! Sleeping stuff, check. Canteens full, check. No litter lying free? Check. Fire out? Check. Bag and equipment secure? Check. Yep, I'm all set." Ash talks to himself quietly, before hoisting his bag onto his back with a big stagger. It is one huge bag, I'll say that. Chikorita hops to him and says something, and he crouches down to her and mumbles back, before giving her a quick pat. I have to get him to teach me the way their language works.  
  
"Ash, we're going to have to get to a centre. I've worn everything about five times by now." Ash walks past me to Misty, who is closing up her backpack, and helps her lift it onto her back. "And your clothes are starting to get a bit the worse for wear too. That shirt smells like a skunks posing pouch!" She adds snidely, with a grin.  
  
"Well, at least it keeps the bugs away." He answers calmly, but with his own smile. I can tell this is a conversation which has been spoken so many times that the actors can do it without thought. Once again I get that wish to be a part of the script. So, typical of me, I chance my arm.  
  
"I think the noise of your getting ready has emptied the forest already." For a horrible moment, there's silence staring harshly back at me.  
  
"Yeah, I always told you to keep your noise down!" Misty grins at the opening. Yes! Yay me!  
  
"Hey, you're the cluttered one around here, not me." The cool reply. Chikorita adds something, which leads to a look of anger on Misty's face. Another thought strikes me, and I step forwards, casting a harsh look at my watch.  
  
"By the way you guys, weren't we supposed to be going somewhere?" The whole group face-fault, and I feel another wave of happiness, just for being noticed.  
  
"Yeah, well, let's go then." Ash consults a map, and a compass. "Right, this way." He points back past me, and as a group, we move off into the undergrowth. Misty pushes ahead, Cyndaquil beside her. I pick up Pikachu mumbling to Ash behind me. His reply is a little confusing -  
  
"Well, look ahead of me, and say who you see."  
  
  
  
The sun is strong. Strong like an iron bar. Does that make sense? Well, it is like the heat is something solid, pushing against me constantly. Sunlight is something which I love, but anyone can have too much of a good thing. I feel like I'm getting a sunburnt leaf.  
  
("I can hear water.") Pikachu's heard something. Oh, a stream, obviously. The question everyone wants to ask is just waiting to be spoken. I'm going to ask it.  
  
("Ash! Let's have a rest, and a swim!") I call out, so Misty at the head of the group might hear as well. Ash looks down at me, so I give him my best softening up look. It always works, he's really soft when it comes to his Pokemon.  
  
"Seconded." Misty calls.  
  
("Thirded") Cyndaquil agrees.  
  
("Fourthded.. ..is that even a word?") Pikachu puts in.  
  
"Stop leaving me out!" Hazel yells, irritated.  
  
"There's a stream or something up ahead, we're thinking of taking a dip. Fancy joining us?" Misty answers. Hazel's reply is a blush. Why?  
  
"Let me guess, something else you forgot includes a bathing suit." Ash hits the nail on the head, judging by the way she darkens further.  
  
"So the only thing you could wear would be your birthday suit." Misty quickly jokes, and I laugh with everyone else.  
  
"It's not funny! I couldn't afford one!" Hazel growls, affronted.  
  
"Ah, we'll see if one of Misty's suits will fit you." Ash suggests, as we continue walking towards the noise, which I can now hear too.  
  
("I hate water.. ..") Cyndaquil moans, shoulders drooping. It's not going to make any difference, he's going in as well, if for no other reason than everyone needs a wash.  
  
"Why couldn't you afford a bathing suit?" Misty asks, pushing a branch away from her face.  
  
"Uh, well, I'd spent the last of my money on clothes and trainers. I overlooked it, 'spose." Fair enough. I'd be hopeless when it comes to money myself.  
  
"Hmmm.. .."Ash makes a thoughtful noise above me, but before I can ask him why, the bushes part to reveal a stream. Looks quite deep to me. Slow- running though, and the water itself is crystal clear. Ideal, since some of us aren't great swimmers. Pikachu is good now, but all that I can manage is doggy paddle. Cyndaquil can do the non-swimmer stroke, namely flailing and splashing wildly.  
  
"Got any more sunscreen?" Misty calls Ash, mindful to top up her sun cover before going in the water.  
  
"Yeah, factor twenty, waterproof." He throws the bottle over. "And some for me." He gets an identical bottle out, for it to warm in the sun while he changes. He says it's a good tactic, as there's nothing worse than sticking cold lotion all over his skin when he's steaming hot. Misty thinks so too. I just wish that Ash and Misty didn't end up rubbing the lotion into each other where they can't reach themselves. Perhaps I should put some on just so Ash can do the same for me!  
  
"I think I'll let my crew out. They need a break, and it's more eyes to keep look out." Out come Psyduck, Seaking, Polytoed, Lapras, Starmie and Lanturn. Misty's group has changed quite a lot, both through evolutions and new arrivals, as well as departures. Togepi, that egg from years ago, ended up evolving. But it became independent of Misty as a result, and she offered him his freedom, since she didn't want to keep him in a Pokeball, but it seemed unfair to keep him tied down to her. He left about eighteen months ago, and I think Misty still misses the little Togepi she used to carry in her arms like he was her baby. Apparently, the Lapras used to be Ash's a long time ago, but he persuaded him to go with Misty, as "She'll be better for you, and you will be for her." I heard that Misty was so stunned she almost lost control of her body and collapsed.  
  
"Same here." Ash releases Feraligator, and two newer additions to his group - Dragonair and Tyranitar. They take one look at the water, and both break for it. I've never worked out how Ash and Misty taught Tyranitar to swim. She should be too heavy, but nope. Why the hell can she swim when I can't?!  
  
("Banzai!") Pikachu screams before hurling herself into the water. Then a much larger scream emerges as bubbles. The thing about this stream, is that it's a mountain stream. So, it's cold, even in summer. And having walked all morning in almost thirty degree heat, it comes as a shock to the system. She re-surfaces looking she's seen hell from the inside.  
  
"I guess I'll give Charlotte a run." A flash from Hazel's direction, and a Charmander emerges, looking a bit dazed. She gazes around for a moment, and sees Hazel next to her, holding her Pokeball. Now she's looking puzzled, but eventually shrugs and gets up. Stretches, looks around again, and runs to hide behind a tree. I think the sight of a dozen high-level and powerful Pokemon nearby is a little hairy.  
  
("A little shy is she? I'll go speak to her.") Cyndaquil says to me before moving over to her.  
  
"Hazel, what size are you?" Ash calls over to Hazel.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You know, size. Waist, etc, etc." If it was, say, Brock asking that question, I'd be worried. But I trust Ash. She doesn't yet, judging by yet another blush.  
  
"Uhm, about, well you shouldn't ask a girl that question!" She yelps, trying to hide her embarrassment, and failing.  
  
"We just want to know if you could wear something of Misty's. It'd be a shame if you couldn't have a swim."  
  
"I doubt she could Ash. You know I was that size about four years ago. And you know how much I've grown since then." Misty replies, and I think she just did to make the point to him how much she's "grown". She gets like this whenever there's another girl about. Although it is true, now she's bigger, she used to be like a straw. Not to say she's overweight now, Ash said to me that she looks perfect to him (much to my frustration). From my perspective she looks big, but then again everything looks big to me, since I'm about eighteen inches tall.  
  
"Well, I'm sure you two can work it out between you." He digs into his bag, pulls out a pair of azure swim shorts, and paces off to get changed. Wary of the mood between Hazel and Misty, I choose to follow him.  
  
("Ash, why are you leaving those two like that?") I ask, soon as we're out of earshot.  
  
"Why not? Besides, if they want to be catty and hostile, it's their lookout not mine." He pulls off his blue shirt and socks, casts a look around, and then strips off fully before pulling his swim shorts on. "Also, there's something about Hazel that doesn't quite add up to me. Just a few things she's said, and a few things she's missing. But don't say anything to anyone, I'm probably just being paranoid. She's a nice enough girl, isn't she?"  
  
("I suppose. But is she coming with us, or is she leaving?") I enquire. He flashes me a quick smile.  
  
"Pikachu asked me the exact same question this morning. And my answer? Look ahead of me, and say who you see. If Hazel was going anywhere else, she wouldn't have left with us." He fidgets for a moment, then looks down. "And don't laugh, but I've got these on back to front. And I asked you not to laugh."  
  
  
  
No matter what anyone says, they can't get Hazel to come in, even fully clothed. It makes no odds to me, one less in the stream results in more peace, especially if it's not her. The Pokemon have spread out up and down stream, both so they can play their games in peace, and also as lookouts for danger or strangers approaching. Well, with the exceptions of Pikachu, Cyndaquil and Chikorita, two of whom are trying to pull the third into the water, the third proving a very determined opponent. Until Chikorita tickles him, and as his grip loosens, she and Pikachu launch him into the water. That's a little cruel. Ash swims over to where he splashed in, a few yards away, and dives under to make sure he's okay. The water has warmed a little in the sun, but it's still a shade below cool.  
  
("Woo hoo!") Pikachu and Chikorita share a high-five as Ash re-surfaces with Cyndaquil perched damply but jauntily on his head.  
  
("I'm going to remember this.. ..") Cyndaquil puffs, before hopping off Ash and back into the water, with the view that if he was wet, he may as well do it properly. It's a good thing he's good at floating, he first started off by panicking which was the worst thing he could do. I taught him to keep his head and spread out, and that he should float if he does that. He's just about got that in his mind, but his swimming stroke is something akin to the thrashing of someone who is drowning. Chikorita is trying to teach him the doggy paddle.  
  
"Misty, we've been in here coming up on forty minutes. Time to slap on some more sun cream." Ash calls over to me, before swimming to the bank and pulling himself out. If I have grown over the years, he definitely has too. We're both around the same height, around five-and-a-half foot. He's not tall for a man, or big. But he's well toned, the way his muscles stood out as he pulled himself out of the water proves that. And well tanned, this way of life agrees with him. I'm staring aren't I?  
  
"Hey Misty, look any harder and you'll lose an eye!" Thank you for that Hazel.  
  
"Now now you two, behave." Ash turns around and offers a hand. "Come on out." I grasp it, feeling the usual blush I always get from him, like someone has turned the heat up somewhere within.  
  
"Awww, now she's blushing. She's so shy, embarrassed she's holding a boys hand.. .." I am going to kill her. I am, slowly and painfully, with exquisite torture.  
  
"Shut it you. And if I remember rightly, weren't you the one who stared at Ash yesterday like he was ice-cream?" Hazel colours, glaring right back at me.  
  
"And I'm not allowed? While some overweight red-head can? Hah, don't make me laugh!" The cutting tone hurts. Badly.  
  
"Overweight? Since when have I been overweight?!" I scream back. There's no way I'm fat. No way.. ..  
  
"You said it yourself, you've "grown", and in more ways than one." Before the statement has even reached my ears I'm heading towards her, hands clenching to fists.  
  
"Take that back, you bitch!" To my delight I see a flicker of fear appear in her previously cocky brown eyes. But she's still defiant.  
  
"Take what back? I don't take anything back if it's true!" She gets to her feet, still facing me as I stop my advance, barely a foot away.  
  
"Why you little..." I growl, and draw my hand back. Where it's grabbed.  
  
"Hey! break it up!" Ash lets go of my hand and imposes himself between us. "There's no need for this! Now, are you two going to stop being malicious, or am I going to have to impose a time out and stand you behind two trees facing away from each other for half an hour until you've calmed down?"  
  
"At least behind a tree I couldn't see her, although her love handles might stick out the sides.. .." Ash rounds on Hazel with a venomous glare.  
  
"Enough! Hazel, if you're going to be with us, you're going to have to be more civil." Her look turns from fierce to pained.  
  
"But I.. .." He raises a hand to silence her.  
  
"And that goes for both of you. I'm not a bone for you two to fight over, so cut it out!" With that he makes for his bottle of sunscreen, and I feel a quick stab of shame. Having to watch his best friend and another young girl fight like a pair of cats in heat as if he wasn't there. Besides, why would he want either of us? One overweight and pale, one waif-like and lonely, both selfish and petty as the other.  
  
"Ahhh, damn it." Hazel mutters, and walks off into the trees without a word to me, and I hear a scrunch of leaves as she sits down behind one. I then turn my head in time to see Chikorita, with an expression of delight on her face, scamper over to Ash to rub some cream into his back. Watched by Pikachu, with an expression of intense frustration at missing a trick. Well, I guess I'll get her to help me with my back instead.. ..  
  
  
  
We're almost at the nearest village now, after a little under four days of travelling, now it's late afternoon. I picked up the pace once I realised that the longer we were out in the wilderness, the longer I'd have to act referee to those two. When we reach the village of Cinnamon I can sit them down and we can thrash out some sort of peace treaty, but in the woods there's always somewhere to storm off to. Thankfully, by now, they're so tired at sniping at one another that barely a word is spoken. Hazel has continually poked fun at Misty, calling her "fat" among other things. She is a lot bigger than she used to be, but I think she's just right, I helped her take her measurements for a dress a few weeks back and we were both pretty impressed by the result. Okay, enough drooling Ash. Misty responds by calling Hazel scrawny and idiotic, and using her intelligence to score points. But it seems to fly right over Hazels head, although I think it's more her using her seeming ignorance to pretend the words don't hit home. Result? Misty and Hazel tearing lumps out of each other while each pretending they aren't being affected. It's similar to what used to happen between myself and Misty years ago, only I was calling her scrawny. But this, it's dissimilar in that there's no laugh in the eye, no apologies. I suppose I'm meant to take Misty's side, but if she'd risen above it or been a little more friendly to start off with Hazel this might not be happening. But I'm not taking Hazels side either, since she's a real pain to Misty, without any true incitement that I can see. Hazel, there's a bit of an enigma in her somewhere, she acts like she's dumb and caustic, but from time to time she changes. Just for a second. Last night she showed off her expensive necklace that she got for her birthday, but doesn't wear because it's too big for her right now. I think I need to think about her a little longer.  
  
"Well, we're here." Misty states blankly, voice and expression devoid of emotion.  
  
("Where to first?") Pikachu asks, relief awash in her tone. I'm not the only one caught in the middle.  
  
("Hotel would be the best bet. Check in, then check the town out.") Cyndaquil suggests breezily. He's just about the only one who has put up with the feuding, mostly by avoiding being near them when they're both together. He's had plenty of experience dealing with Pikachu and Chikorita.  
  
"Yeah." Misty agrees. I glance to Hazel, whose eyes of the same colour are closed. She's deciphering what Cyndaquil said to the best she can.  
  
"House would be a more gamble. Look in, then look the town outside." She realises just what she's said as soon as the laughter hits her ears, undeserved compared with how good the effort was. She looks both embarrassed and angry, but is too tired to follow it up. I've been giving her intense tuition on the language for just four days, and she got a fairly close shot at that statement (another thing which is odd for someone so seemingly straightforward). Her frown lifts when Cyndaquil and I give her a supportive smile for the attempt. The rest of the walk to the small hotel is composed entirely of silence. The sort of silence only found at the end of a long journey after the day is done. Everyone too tired to speak, and too absorbed in thoughts of the day which has passed to listen. Cinnamon is, as I thought, little more than a village. A row of shops along one main street with a solitary hotel and Pokemon centre combined, a couple of greengrocers, a few clothes shops, a bank, more pubs than houses, and a number of those odd shops which seem to sell nothing in particular but have lots of old books, china dolls and charm bracelets in the window. Never been in one myself, in case it's a trap or something. A way to lure in the unwary and make them into another shopkeeper to continue the tradition of the anonymous shop in anonymous villages across the world.  
  
"This place is deader than the bottom of the sea." Hazel mutters, and I sort of agree with her.  
  
("Come on, I'm hungry!") Chikorita moans, before picking up her pace and pulling a little ahead of us, making for what looks distinctly like a greasy spoon cafe off to one side of the street, a long window with just off-white net curtain framed by green paint, as is the door, with "Raymond's Cafe" on a sign over the window.  
  
("That makes two of us.") Pikachu agrees with her (for once).  
  
"Tell you all what, I'll go on ahead, try and get a room for us. You go into that cafe over there, and I'll meet you back there." Misty suggests, to murmurs of agreement.  
  
("I'll come with you.") Cyndaquil moves over to her, and they both peel off towards the hotel, which is about ten yards this side of the cafe. The four of us remaining head for the cafe. I reach out and pull down the handle, and step into the cafe, trainers landing on slick, shiny (whether through natural finish or several layers of grease, I don't know) pale-green tiles. Kinda like the tiles which always seem to adorn the floors of schools and public toilets. Mmm, not a thought which inspires appetite. The whole place is empty, about a dozen Formica tables of varying size but all in the same apathetic green shade as the floor, all screwed down, complete with the correct number of red plastic seats for the table size also screwed in place.  
  
"Can I help you?" A middle-aged woman with greying hair tied back and a green tabard on over her white blouse looks at us a little suspiciously. I don't suppose they get many new customers around here.  
  
"Uh, yeah. I'd like a coffee." Hazel calmly replies.  
  
"Make that three coffees, a tea and two hot chocolates. Oh, we've got a couple more people coming." I finish, seeing her making a few sums and coming up short on numbers. "We should be ordering food soon, once they get here."  
  
("Aaaash.. ..") Chikorita moans after hearing she's got to wait.  
  
"No Chikorita, if you start now it's not fair on everyone else. And you'll end up trying to pinch someone's food again, and we know how shirty Pikachu gets when you try it.")  
  
("Right!") Pikachu adds, with a definite look at her as if daring her to try. After grabbing a handful of sugars, milk cartons and stirrers, I pick the only table with six places and slide to the end of a row of three red plastic seats. Instead of sliding in the opposite side, Hazel plants herself firmly in the seat to my right, so I'm stuck between her and the wall. I guess it's my own fault for not offering ladies first. Chikorita and Pikachu hop into the two seats opposite.  
  
"Erm, Ash? Could I pay you back later? I haven't got any cash to hand right now." Hazel gives me an imploring look, and I think why not?  
  
"No problem, I think I've got enough." I open my wallet, and run a quick thumb through the banknotes. Yeah, plenty. Between myself and Misty we've beaten enough tough trainers and worked enough part time jobs to live in comfort for the next few months.  
  
"What's that?" A finger comes into view, pointing to a picture in my wallet. A picture of.. ..  
  
"That's when I was home about three years ago." I remember that day well. Brock, Misty, myself and all my Pokemon having a big midsummer party for me, along with a few family friends.  
  
"Who are those two?" She points to the two people on the right of the picture, one a woman with brown hair and one a boy of about sixteen, both apparently laughing their heads off at the scene before them.  
  
"The woman, that's my mother. Her name is Deliah , and she's what I miss most while out on my travels. The man is Brock, a great friend of mine who settled down last winter after journeying with us for years. I miss him too." Her finger moves across the picture to the foreground, followed by a smothered laugh.  
  
"Yes yes, that's me." A fresh-faced version of me, wearing a red and white cap, jeans and a blue jacket, being literally smothered by Pikachu, Chikorita, Cyndaquil and about five other Pokemon, including a Bulbasaur and Muk. "As you can see, they were kinda happy to see me." Thankfully, she doesn't ask why, just moving her finger on to the last character. Misty, also looking a great deal younger, and it has to be said, a lot like Hazel. She's also smiling. At least it looks like it in the small picture. "Do you have a picture?" She looks taken aback at my question.  
  
"Yeah. You want to see it?" I nod, and she pulls out a wallet. She opens it, and from among the empty card slots she pulls out a picture. In it is a young girl of around nine, and a boy of about twelve, on either end of what looks like a sofa. I'm not sure, because she whips the picture away again quickly and slips it back in her wallet. "That was me, and my friend Mark, a few years ago." She explains, tucking the wallet back into her pocket.  
  
"I see. Get on well did you?" She shrugs.  
  
"More like brother and sister than anything else." The cups arrive at our table, and she grabs one with sheep on and moves to take a mouthful, only to smell that it contains tea. Putting it down, she picks up one with coffee in it, and rips the top off about five sugar sachets, pouring the lot of them into the cup while stirring vigorously.  
  
("Sweet tooth?") Pikachu grins, and I translate for her.  
  
"Yep, all twenty-seven of them in fact." She ignores the milk, and just takes a swig.  
  
("Which one is tea?") Chikorita asks, and I nod to the cup Hazel first picked up in response. I can see Hazel memorising the little things she said and the answer I gave, picking up more words. Sharp.  
  
"What happened to the twenty-eighth?" I ask, curious.  
  
"Ah, um, I tripped up and fell on the way to school once, and banged the side of my face against the edge of a pavement, broke one of the back ones." Without warning she turns to me and pulls her upper lip to one side, displaying a gap where a premolar should have been on the right side of her face.  
  
("Whoah. Some trip.") Pikachu breathes, before reaching for a coffee cup. For a while we just sit in silence, Hazel and Chikorita both seemingly determined to drink theirs first, Pikachu lost in idle thought while I sip at my hot chocolate patiently.  
  
"We're here!" The opening of the café door is followed directly by Misty's voice. She ignores the affronted look the woman in the tabard gives her for making a noise, and makes her way over to the table, Cyndaquil in tow. Unsurprisingly, she chooses the seat next to Pikachu, so Cyndaquil hops up onto the sole remaining place on Hazel's left.  
  
("Got my, oh, here it is.") Cyndaquil spies the hot chocolate and moves over to grasp it, bringing it back to his place.  
  
"And my coffee? Thanks Ash." Misty says, before taking a tentative sip. "Nescafe." She declares solemnly, before having another.  
  
("Don't you usually have sugar in coffee? About six, if I remember rightly.") Pikachu questions, while idly scratching an ear.  
  
"Didn't feel like it." The blunt reply.  
  
"Or maybe you can't afford any more calories?" Hazel mutters. Not quietly enough.  
  
("Well after the amount of sugar you have in your tea, it's not a surprise you haven't got all your teeth left!") Pikachu, fed up of the endless sniping, leaps to Misty's defence, drawing a snigger from Chikorita. Misty doesn't understand what she meant, but is undoubtedly interested.  
  
"What did she say?!" Hazel demands caustically, but I'm not going to tell her. It would be pointless.  
  
"She said 'With the amount of sugar you have in your tea, it's not a surprise you haven't got all your teeth left.'" Misty gives her a derogatory look. "Mind you, you look like you've been in enough scraps already. You've probably got a mouth like a draughts board." Hazel leans back into me, and for the first time that I can remember, seems really shaken.  
  
"Screw you! What do you know? You don't know me, so back off!" She presses herself further back against me, and one hand grasps my arm so tightly her knuckles turn white.  
  
"Then do me the favour of not being a little bitch twenty-four seven, and give me some respect. If you don't, you'll have the pleasure of not living to regret it. Although it's not like you've got a lot to live for." I've had enough of this, it has to stop.  
  
"Like you?" Hazel cuts in before I can speak, her body turning rigid against my own. "Why should I respect you? Born into the silver spoon, raised like a princess, and you go and run away because you can't emulate your sisters, then hitch-hike your way through life for years on someone else's back!" Everyone else around the table looks utterly stunned, Misty angry too. This has to stop! I would talk with Misty now, but I can feel Hazel push into me yet harder, physically shaking. Shaking like a leaf on the autumn breeze, and she won't be able to wait.  
  
"Misty, take the others back. Please." She rounds on me, seething.  
  
"You mean I should walk away after taking that from this little.this little whore?!" I bite back my own snarl.  
  
"Yes. I'll come to you soon. But I can't have you both doing this! Have you noticed what it's doing to the rest of us?" Her aqua eyes lose a little of their intensity as they flick to the astonished faces of Pikachu and Cyndaquil, and to the upset one of Chikorita. Eventually she wordlessly accedes, just sliding off her seat wordlessly, trailed solemnly by the three Pokemon, all leaving their drinks almost untouched. I let them all exit, and then give the woman who'd come out to see what the fuss was about a definite "push off" glance. Slowly, once all is quiet, I slide Hazel around to face me. Her eyes are screwed up like a newborn puppies, nails digging crescents into her palms. Eventually, I put a hand to her shoulder, and speak with utmost care. "Hazel, it's okay, they've gone now. It's just us two." A solitary eye opens, then the other. But they're fighting to hold back tears.  
  
"Ash, I.I.." She closes both eyes again, failing to stop a single tear escaping each one. Angrily she puts her face in her hands, attempting to conceal them.  
  
"Hey, it's okay to cry, really." I reassure her. She shakes her head.  
  
"No it's not, it's weakness. But I'm strong! I won't cry." She lifts her face from her hands, and sniffles a little, eyes damp and edged by pink.  
  
"What was all that about?" As soon as I ask she averts her gaze to the window, but I doggedly continue. "Come on Hazel, that wasn't a little tiff, that was serious. What made you say things like that?" She doesn't look at me, answering in a dull tone.  
  
"I'd had enough of it. I couldn't stand any more of her talking down to me." This doesn't add up. No way. But I can't get the truth from her now. All I can do is make peace.  
  
"You know that this can't go on. You're going to have to be more civil to Misty. There's two sides to an argument, you have to stop winding her up." I hold up a hand as she moves to protest. "And don't insult both of us by claiming innocence, as it's true. Now I'm going to speak to Misty now, and tell her the same things. If you both keep going the way you are now, one of you is going to have to leave." She just pauses, before nodding silently. "You okay?" A sniffle, and a cough.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Right, let's get to the hotel room, and cool off with a shower. After you." She slides off the row off seats, and I follow her. Before leaving, I give the woman stood in the kitchen having a chat to the cook a wink, and pop a ten pound note on the counter. "And keep the change!" I call over my shoulder, before following Hazel out onto the street.  
  
  
  
That's all for now, see you next time! 


	3. Calling Cards

Whew, it's only about 10 days until my 1st anniversary as an author. Feels like it was yesterday when I first wrote my opening chapter of Chiko-envy, and then sweated over what the reaction would be until 5AM. Well, now it's a little different, I post a chapter and only sweat over it until 4AM. ^_^;  
  
Anyhow, a few thank-yous to go out as per usual - Cultnirvana, you're a miracle. Ideas, checks, suggestions, discussions.... without you this probably would still be on the drawing board. And Heironeous, huge thanks for your impressions, beta-reading and spotting enough spelling mistakes to write a whole new dictionary with. Also, Light Sneasel, Dragoness, Sailor- Knight Shadowstar, Fan-girl and the Puppet-Killer, your reviews really do make me happy. Big hugs and thanks from me! I had the idea of asking for a certian amount of reviews before continuation like some other authors do, but I want to keep writing, and knowing my luck I wouldn't get what I was demanding. Ah well.  
  
Okay, enough ranting, time to get on with it.  
  
  
  
Where The River Flows - Chapter III  
  
  
  
6.30AM - We talked and talked last night. But still, the words I long for do not come. I've tried everything, listening to my favourite music on my CD player, reading my favourite childhood book, one I still carry with me to make me smile and remember long past times. No smile will come now. I can find little to look forward to, little to look back on. Being torn in two directions, trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. I'm in limbo, hung in purgatory and unable to move. There are two ways out, to face the devil down and risk my soul, or to wade out into the sea and disappear. I've always been tempted by the devil, but I've always loved the ocean.  
  
The wood-effect door slams violently behind me, courtesy of my furious shove. For a moment I stand stock still in the middle of the floor, being stared at in shock by the three Pokemon I'd followed into the room, frozen bar for my fingers which clench and straighten in rhythm with the waves of anger lapping through me. I cast eyes around for something to vent it on, anything will do. A window to smash, a pillow to pound, anything. To think that she could say such things to me. And to think that he could take her side! Don't the years between us matter? Don't I matter? Not as much as her, obviously. Perhaps it's because I'm older, more mature, he thinks I can look after myself. Maybe that shows the amount he cares for me is less than how much I care for him, or maybe he's beginning to listen to, and believe her little taunts. But it's just not fair!  
  
"It's not fair!" I find my mouth screaming, with fearful venom, before I fling myself onto the middle of the three beds in the room, slamming my head into the peach pillow. I just stay there, face burrowed, brooding in the darkness.  
  
("Are you crying?") Chikorita's cautious yet sympathetic tone doesn't lighten the clouds circling my head, in fact a few begin to rumble with unspent thunder. I don't bother doing her the honour of lifting my head to reply.  
  
"No. Go away." Simple. No pretences.  
  
("Where? This is the room for all of us, you go away.") Pikachu answers, frustration harsh in her voice. I let my malice simmer for a moment. It's not like me to be cruel, but I really can't help myself right now.  
  
"Why don't you go stick your head down the toilet and flush it?" Silence. Then Pikachu's voice comes through again, right next to my ear.  
  
("Why don't you repeat that?") This time it's a gentle purr, like the cat with the mouse at it's mercy. Well I'm not going to be her mouse.  
  
"Okay, in case you're deaf as well as stupid, I said : Why don't you go stick your..." Cyndaquil breaks in, cool as ice.  
  
("Enough, both of you.") I ignore him.  
  
"...Head down the toilet and flush it?" I snigger quietly to myself in the pillow, trying to ward off the darkness slowly creeping up inside me, yet it's unstoppable as witholding the lengthening dusk. Depression, uncertainty, angst, anger, all burning a trail marked by the incessant bickering I hate with unholy passion, yet can't ignore.  
  
("Don't start Misty. Just don't. Please!") Chikorita almost begs, I can almost hear the tears forming in her voice. She's always been upset by people fighting, and Ash told me he had to go and calm her down a few days back. My guilt deepens still further, but my pride, god damn it, refuses to back down.  
  
"So what if I get annoyed? I think I'm allowed!" I finally pull my face from the pillow, eyes flashing with fury. "Did you hear what she said to me?! And I should accept it? Like fuck!" Chikorita's red eyes grow hazy, and she hops off the bed, trying to get away from my stare.  
  
("It's not like you were blameless!") Pikachu hisses, before jumping down herself after Chikorita. What?  
  
("You did go too far, Misty.") Cyndaquil muses, more to himself than to me. Bitterness and regret begin to spread through me, like the poison spreading through Sleeping Beauty the moment she pricked her finger.  
  
"What do you mean?" I don't know if it's curiosity, or fatalism, but I want to hear the criticism. It's like I'm almost going to revel in it.  
  
("She made a little joke about you, and you told her she had a mouth like a draughtsboard, and told her she had nothing to live for! To her, you might seem fat, just since she's so small.") He's right, I could appear overweight to her, she's even thinner than I used to be. Perhaps that's why Ash chose to go with her, he likes to see that part of me in her. The little Misty of years ago, the one he first knew.  
  
"I can't believe Ash would choose her over me though! I mean, he's only known her five days, and she was horrible to me in the first place." Petty, yes, hypocritical maybe, but I'm being honest. That hurt, Ash telling me to wait for him. I thought that we were out here for the both of us, that we weren't only working for my future, but for......us. Our future. Unwritten, unmentioned, but I thought unquestionable. And the whole time I was working towards my future, and even now, I'm being held back by the other side of the coin, the thing I would lose if I were to become a nurse.  
  
("If for some reason he felt Hazel needed his attention first, he had a good reason. He would never neglect you Misty, about that I'm utterly certain.") I'd love to believe Cyndaquil's dulcent tone. But something echoes time and time again in my head, that he still chose her over me....  
  
("Come on Misty, you have to let Hazel be who she is. She's rough around the edges, but rise above it. You'll get on okay if you give it time.") Pikachu climbs back up on to the bed, giving me an imploring look. Before any more can be said, there is a knock on the door. Everyone on the bed looks at everyone else, hoping someone else is first to move to answer it. Then, the door opens anyway. Chikorita steps back from it, having gone to open it herself. Ash is first in, careful neutrality sculpted in his face. Hazel follows hesitantly, looking nervous.  
  
"Hazel, the shower is through there, okay?" He points off to a door on his left, just a few feet into the room from the entrance. She nods mutely. "And here, take my bag, there should be a towel in there, but if there isn't, then use one from my bag." He hands his bag to her, and she disappears through the door. It shuts, and there is the click of a lock. He looks me in the eye, with a brief smile. "Someone forgot to tell me the room number, so I'm a little late." He moves over to the bed and places himself down on the end of it, still looking at me. "Are you okay Misty?" I want to tell him some sort of story which explains how I feel, but something else has taken control of my voice.  
  
"So, have you got time for me now?" I ask in a dry, cutting tone.  
  
"Misty, please don't be like this." His reply is apologetic, but I want more.  
  
"I thought I was your best friend. But you go and brush me off anyway." I feel a strange mix of pleasure and self-disgust as his expression turns to one of pain.  
  
"It wasn't like that, she needed help. I know you're strong enough to cope for a few minutes..." I interrupt, riding on the crest of a wave.  
  
"Yeah, right. Misty's a trooper, she'll survive, she'll wait in line." I know it's horrible, but I'm being fuelled by something different right now. Jealousy. I can see Ash's hazel eyes soften at that last comment, and in a way I'm relieved that I've hurt him. At least it shows he cares.  
  
"Come on, listen to me. Hazel - " That name again. I don't know if it's the name itself, or the fact it's coming from Ash's mouth that infuriates me so.  
  
"Hazel this, Hazel that. Nice to see you've found a love in your life Ash. The little sister you've never had, or the girl you've never been able to get?" The change in his eyes is impossible to justify by description. They've gone from soft as down to solid as marble in a heartbeat.  
  
"I never thought you'd sink so low. I'm going out, see you later." He gets up, and moves quickly out of the door, and Chikorita follows him through before it shuts with a definite thud. I just roll over and stare at the ceiling for a moment, which is becoming blurred with the beginnings of tears in my eyes. I'm a fool, why did I say that? I make a promise to myself at that moment, I'm going to do whatever I have to just to be what he wants me to be. Whether it is look like Hazel, sing like an angel, never say another crossed word, I'm going to do it. Both for Ash, and to prove to myself I'm better for him than Hazel will ever be.  
  
I found when I got into the bathroom that the shower was an attachment to a bath, fitted out in tasteful peach, like pretty much the rest of the room. So, I've been floating in it for about an hour now, just enjoying the novelty of the feeling, while reading a book I found in Ash's bag. I never had a bath at home. The nearest I could get to it was a swim in my favourite place, the Cerulean Sea. I shake off any temptation to daydream about Cerulean, and concentrate on the book. It's a good one, called "The BFG" by Roald Dahl. It seems a bit young for Ash, but it was in there. He'd wrapped it in a see-through plastic cover to keep it from getting damaged easily, which is a good thing since it'd be soaked by my wet, wrinkly fingers otherwise. His diary also fell out of his bag when I went looking for a towel, and tempting as it was to look at it, I held back. I also found some things which I wish I could see on him, but that's another story, and a few more things of interest. I know I shouldn't pry, but it's something which is natural to me. Ah, stop dreaming, and keep reading the book! My eyes do, but my drowsy mind still wanders. Wanders to thoughts about who left an hour ago, and why. To where my friend, no, ex-friend is, what he's doing now. And to what is happening now, back where I used to live. I wonder if they have any idea where I am? Probably not, this is not the way a beginner often comes, because of rough terrain and dangerous wildlife. And can I stop thinking about that!  
  
I toss the book over the side, and, after closing my eyes, sink gratefully into the lukewarm water fully. It's been a long time since I had a proper wash of any sort, not since my second day out. I learnt then that water in the mountains is cold, and also that I hadn't packed towels. It took me half an hour to dry off, and half an hour standing in the nude in the middle of nowhere is not an experience I want to have again. It's one reason I didn't want to go swimming with them, I could've found a way around the swimsuit problem somehow, but when it came to drying off they would have been even more suspicious. I mean who goes out into the wilderness and doesn't bring a towel? I haven't even got enough clothes to dry myself off with a spare set. Well, tomorrow I'm going to make up for lost time and go on a shopping spree. If that's possible in this poxy little village. Slowly I float back up to the surface of the bath, and set about rubbing in yet more of the complementary shampoo to my already well washed scalp. I'm going to need to stock up on toiletries too, and on make- up. I shouldn't need to use so much of that now, it has been more than a week since I left, almost ten days. My wandering gaze catches a little circular mirror on a silver wire stand at the other end of the bath, and I reach over, picking it up. I wipe the condensation off it with the back of my hand, and examine myself critically. My hazel eyes peer back from beneath a wild mop of frothy hair, out of a flushed pink face. I was named Hazel because I had a lot of unusually brown hair when I was born, and my Hazel eyes just added to the effect. It's nice too see them only Hazel again...  
  
"Hazel, for the last time, could you hurry up in there?" Misty's voice breaks the reflective silence.  
  
"What do you mean for the last time?" She hasn't called me before....Unless it was when my head was under the water.  
  
"I mean I've called you several times, and I wish you'd start listening." She grumbles, sounding a little desperate. I weigh up whether to feign ignorance, or make her spell out why she wants to get in here. I think the second choice seems fun.  
  
"Why?" I load up innocence in my voice, and wait for the reply.  
  
"Why do you think?!" The urgent reply. I smile to myself, this could be fun.  
  
"Uh, because you want a bath? Your hair needs washing?"  
  
"Uh, no!" Then silence. Hmm, what should I say next?  
  
"Do I get another guess?" I bite back a giggle, trying to imagine the look on her face.  
  
"I need to go to the toilet. Badly!" Misty bites the bullet. Shame, I was enjoying the teasing. I eye the tap and shower attachment. Ah.  
  
"Well, give me a second, I need to rinse out my hair." A little snigger slips out as I turn on the shower hose, sending the noise of flowing, splashing water throughout the room. I can just imagine Misty trying her damndest not to listen. To add to my own enjoyment, I start singing to myself as I rinse the suds out. I know I'm cruel, but sometimes I can't help but enjoy it. And in my opinion, she deserves everything she's getting from me, for a lot of things. It hasn't crossed my mind yet, though, that she might have no idea why.  
  
"Hazel, in ten seconds I'm going to have Cyndaquil burn the blasted door down, if you don't open it!" There's a tremor in her voice now. The thought even passes that I should push her to see what she does, but enough is enough for now. I clamber out of the bath, and pick up the two towels I'd pulled out of Ash's bag, before wrapping them tightly around my chest and waist. Oh, I forgot to turn the shower off, how thoughtless of me.heh heh. My inner laughter is stopped short when I put one wet foot onto the plastic- covered book, which, thanks to my enthusiasm in the bath, is on a wet tile floor. My feet travel into view a split-second before the back of my head hits the tiles. My sight lands on the ceiling, which is floating around, moving in and out of focus.  
  
"Hazel, open the door! Now!" Misty bangs the door, hysteria edging into her tone. It brings me around just enough to moan something.  
  
"Misty, help..help me..please.." The world grows yet more hazy, and I let myself drift in this new feeling, like my senses have been enveloped by cotton wool. I sense movement, and vaguely see Misty heading for the toilet before she sees me, and she stops to peer down. She seems to call out to me, but try as I might, I can't reply. She then looks up and says something to someone else, before disappearing out of view towards the toilet, and I hear her sit down with a relieved sigh. Another shape swims into view, something large and blue. I think I've seen a picture of one before.a L- La.Lapras? Something adds up in the thickening mist, she must have used Lapras to knock the door open. I think I hear Misty flush the toilet before she comes back into my sight, closer this time, seemingly staring into me. The mist lining my senses has thickened to a fog, and just keeps condensing, darkening further to something smokey, as someone picks me up. I can't be sure who, but I can't summon the will to find out, as consciousness fades with the speed and finality of a landslide to nothingness.  
  
I sit next to Ash, looking around at an unfamiliar scene. There are few places to go in a town small as this, so Ash decided to go into a pub, and have some lemonade while cooling off. It's not a place I'm familiar with, since neither Ash or Misty are old enough to drink yet, but we got served on the proviso that he's drinking soft drinks and that the landlord won a tidy sum on my us winning the last championship. It took about ten impatient customers to stop the old guy talking to him ceaselessly. Now we've chosen a nice quiet corner, and I'm contentedly sipping my drink of lemonade and munching on a few dry-roasted peanuts. The mood is nice, the wooden floor and oak-effect rafters creating warmth in the surroundings, the walls almost papered with pictures of old barns, horses and fields. The only down side is the haze of cigarette smoke hanging ghostily in the air and flooding my sense of smell, combined with the dry tint of hops and whisky fumes creating a still deeper and more intoxicating scent. Ash idly strokes my leaf, eyes fixed in the middle distance, barely touching his drink. I want to know what's on his mind.  
  
("Ash, are you awake?") I nudge him gently, waiting for a response. For a second there is none, then he sighs quietly, reaches for his drink and takes a mouthful.  
  
"Yeah." He lifts his other hand off my head, and it moves to his chin, now looking deep in thought.  
  
("Are you going to tell me what you're thinking, or do I have to guess?") I ask, leaning up to take a suck on the length of straws which have been piped together to allow me sup my drink easily.  
  
"I think you could probably guess." Is the absent-minded response.  
  
("Okay, about Misty and Hazel?") He takes another mouthful of his drink, still gazing into space.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
("Come on, give me more than that.") I cajole, moving to rub cat-like against his leg. It works it's usual magic, he turns his gaze down to me.  
  
"Well you know already. Misty is jealous of Hazel whenever she has my attention and gets pissed that I am looking after her, Hazel is jealous that Misty has always taken first place in my affections, and is angry at her for some other reasons. What's obvious to me now is that there's more to Hazel than meets the eye. I've got a lot of little bits and pieces which don't add up, but I'd rather keep them to myself." I give him my best doe- eyed stare, and he gives a short chuckle. "Okay, if you promise to keep them to quiet. Don't go hurling accusations, okay?"  
  
("Would I ever?") I promise, with heartfelt certainty. He gives me a final appraising look, before nodding.  
  
"Well, for one, she hasn't got any towels. I gave her mine, but acted like I didn't notice she had none. When she went digging through her bag for something the other day, she threw underwear and clothes everywhere, almost emptied the bag, but didn't pull out so much as a tea-towel. Her food rations were almost all sweets and crisps, junk food, no tins, meat or veg. She hadn't prepared at all, like she left without a thought. Two, the clothes, pants and everything she'd strewn all over the place were all cheap, some of them brand new, like they'd been worn once, others well darned, nothing in between. But her trainers are really, really expensive, top of the range. Three, she dislikes Misty for more reasons than just jealousy. I'm getting towards why, but I don't know for sure yet." His brow creases with worry for a moment. "The other thing is a little more unusual." I study his expression, he really is worried. I wonder why?  
  
("What could be so bad Ash? She seems harmless.") He turns so he can give me his full attention, giving my back a rub.  
  
"It's just something which makes me suspicious." He thinks for another moment, then he shrugs. "I may well be over-reacting. It's probably just a beginners mistake after all. But then again, she knew Cyndaquil aren't common around here, and that's not something a total novice would know." I wait patiently as he sorts the words he's going to say out in his head. ".You know that time when we went swimming, Hazel sent out her Charmander? Well, Cyndaquil went to talk with it, and later told me that he was really nice, although he wasn't really sure what he was doing there."  
  
("So?") I don't quite know what he's getting at. He seems like he's going to make his point, but he looks up at the clock, and shakes his head.  
  
"Ah, I'm sure it's nothing. But we'd better be getting back, I think I need to make up with Misty. I don't like letting things lie." He drains the last of his glass, before getting up slowly. "I get so guilty sometimes, I feel like I should be paying more attention to her. Maybe it just seems like I'm ignoring her because we've been alone for so long, we're both used to being the centre of each other's attention. But I'm just trying to be fair. Hazel is becoming like a little sister to me, I enjoy helping her along the best I can. It makes me feel like I'm being useful." He stands and pauses to pet me for a moment, before continuing in a reflective tone. "And something Misty said was sort of true, I've always wanted a little sister, someone I could love without the worries of further complications like the ones always implied between a boy and a girl. Hazel fell into my life now, and at the exact time it seemed Misty's time with me is limited, as she may move into college and get fixed down for a while. I'm not quite ready to settle down myself, I've got so much more to do." He finishes with little more than a whisper, regret and worry lain deep within it.  
  
("Never thought you'd have woman troubles then? And while we're on the subject, you'd better not forget about me.") I chuckle quietly and get up too, savouring both his touch and the taste of the last of the peanuts.  
  
"When would I ever forget about you?" He scoops me up into his arms and gives me a sunny grin.  
  
("Just making sure. Now, you be sure to tell me what you were thinking about later, okay?") He nods, and makes a move for the door with me still in his arms. It's finally getting dark outside, and there is a slight edge to the air, a freshness which cools rather than chills, but still reminds what could be in a few months. On our way into the pub we spotted a fish and chip shop/chinese take-away just down the street, so we head for it to pick up some supper. Hopefully all will be calm by the time we get back.  
  
I look over the still form on the bed, eyes closed and body limp, with a great deal of clashing emotion. Hazel seems okay, she's breathing and her pulse is fine, there's no bleeding and I've felt around her head gently and all seems okay, she's probably just concussed. Both Ash and myself did a first-aid course a while ago, for safety while travelling, and I've been doing still more on it for my studies. But I just wish she would come around to prove the fact to myself, I won't believe my diagnosis until it is proven either way. I don't know what happened to her, but it looks like she slipped by the bath. If it wasn't for the fact I'd got Lapras to shove the door open in a desperate attempt to get to the toilet before I wet myself, she might have been there for a while without anyone knowing. On one hand I might be expected to revel in her misfortune, but I'm not heartless. No matter what we said to each other over the last few days, I never wanted something like this to happen, if for no other reason than I don't like people getting hurt. Ash always said (increasingly jokily) that he used to be scared of me, but as I've grown up my threats have become more and more obviously empty. I'm stolen from my thoughts by the entry of Pikachu and Cyndaquil through the ajar door, after their hunt for the resident nurse.  
  
("Nope, she's not in. Probably got a hot date or something.") Pikachu chirps, hopping up to the bed. For a moment we both study Hazel for some sort of flicker of life, but nope, not yet.  
  
("Oh god, I'm hungry.") Cyndaquil moans, slumping down in a pose of pitiful desparation. Despite myself, I smile.  
  
"That makes two of us. But I can't leave, and it's no good you trying to get food, no-one would know what you are on about." I sigh, feeling my stomach rumble. "I guess we'll have to use the last of our tins, and wait until tomorrow morning."  
  
"Well if you really must, I could always eat all this myself." I whirl around to see Ash stroll in, a heavy plastic bag in each hand, the contents of which my nose has already told me. I slide on a shy smile, one he returns in kind until he sets eyes on Hazel. "What's wrong with her?" I shake my head.  
  
"She slipped up on the floor of the bathroom and banged her head. I checked her, she should be okay." His eyes soften with worry, while mine probably harden in response. Whether she's unconscious or awake, I still feel jealous whenever Ash lavishes attention on her.  
  
"Mind if I take a look?" I shrug my shoulders in response.  
  
"Only if I can have something to eat."  
  
("Me too!") Cyndaquil asks. Ash nods in response, not noticing that Pikachu and Chikorita have already torn open one of the bags of chips and are devouring them with the speed that rain flows down a drainpipe.  
  
"Go ahead. There's fried rice there for you Misty, and some hot sauce too Cyndaquil. Enjoy." Fried rice? Nice. I rustle through the bags until I find a silver tray and a plastic fork, and I grab them before sitting on the middle bed and tearing into it. I've finished the whole lot and cleaned out the corners with my tongue before I even look up. Cyndaquil and Chikorita have both got the hiccups, due to seemingly not bothering to chew their food, and Pikachu is smothering each individual chip in ketchup. Well, I say smothering, drowning is more like it. I pick up an un-opened bag of chips and tuck into them happily, until my sight traces it's way up the bed next to me. Hazel lain unmoving, with Ash's eyes of the same colour looking at her with touching concern. Well, it would be touching to me if it didn't make me feel hollow, hollow as a bubble. I set down the rest of my supper, losing my appetite in the time it takes to turn on a light.  
  
"Uhh." Hazel's eyes flicker, and she takes a deep breath.  
  
My eyes slam open, searching wildly. That smell, not that smell, not this, please.no, not again.  
  
I look up from eating my ketchup to see Hazel stare around like a startled fawn, before she just lets out a tiny squeak. In the blink of an eye she's sat up against the headboard, knees drawn to her chin, hugging the towels to her closely.  
  
"No! Leave me alone! It's not my fault!" A moment of silence as everyone looks at everyone else, each asking the same question. What?  
  
"Hazel, calm down." She still seems delirious, Ash's words have no effect on her. She sniffs the air deeply, and her terror seems to multiply still further, whipping up into a malestrom of confusion and panic.  
  
"No, stay away! I can smell where you've been! You're going to do it again! What did I do? I'm sorry!" She cries, holding her arms out in front of her, but not as if she's reaching for something, more that she's pushing something away, looking to parry not accept.  
  
"Hazel!" Ash moves in quickly and puts his arms around her, hugging her close while whispering inaudible words into her ear. Her arms flail wildly against his back, but they slow almost instantly.  
  
"A-ash?" Barely more than a whimper, a scared child calling from a nightmare. Hazel's eyes seem to focus for a moment before her arms tighten around Ash, and she buries herself into his chest, sobbing with shuddering intensity.  
  
("What's wrong?") I ask, feelings tinged by worry at the sheer power of her distress. Ash just gestures to me to wait for a moment as he rocks her slowly, still cooing in her ear. Slowly, the sobbing slows to nothing and she falls asleep, the only clue to her outburst a pink tinge to her face and the damp trails left by tears. Ash tenderly lays her head back down onto the pillow, and takes off her towels which had become loose and skewed when she'd reacted to severely. He carefully pulls the blankets down the bed, and then pulls them back up over her, right up to her chin, before brushing a few stray hairs away from her eyes.  
  
"Ash, what do you think that was all about?" Misty's puzzled question echoes through the sudden silence. He just looks tenderly down at Hazel for a few moments, before shaking his head.  
  
"I don't know for certain, but I've got a good idea.."  
  
I wish I hadn't eaten all that at once, and I wish I hadn't washed it all down with hot sauce, that's pushing it even for me. I guess I'm having my punishment now, lain flat on my back on the bed nearest the window, staring out into the darkness and trying to count the stars in a vain attempt to take my mind off it. Misty has already excused herself and disappeared off into the bathroom. I think she's running a bath of her own, although I wouldn't be surprised if she's throwing up, the rate she ate her supper with. I'm trying not to listen and find out since my stomach needs little persuasion to follow suit right now. Pikachu is fast asleep, spreadagled on the pillow. Chikorita is trying, like me, to avoid losing the food we'd stuffed down our throats an hour ago. Her face is a much darker green than usual. Ash is still keeping a careful eye on Hazel, who is once again utterly comatose. The first thing he did after the outburst was change clothes and wash his face and hands, and clean his teeth. I have no idea why. But he's got some reason, I'm sure.  
  
("I never want to see a chip again...") Chikorita moans, wringing her eyes shut tightly and rolling onto her other side.  
  
"It's your own fault, I'm afraid. You barely left any for me." Ash chides her gently, with a smile.  
  
("Guilty as charged.") I add, before resolving to try and keep my mouth shut.  
  
"I hope Misty is okay in there. She's been almost an hour." He glances up towards the bathroom, playing absently with his fingernails.  
  
("That's not unusual for her.") Chikorita murmurs dozily.  
  
"Yeah, but normally she makes more noise than a brass band, singing badly and splashing about. I haven't heard a peep out of her." His sight flicks back to Hazel, then up to the bathroom again, and I can see him agonising silently. He doesn't want to leave her, but he needs to check up on Misty, he feels guilty that he hasn't done so already. I guess I'll break my resolution.  
  
("You go and knock on the door, I'll be here in case Hazel wakes up.") Nausea floods into my head, but I fight it down. He sends me a silent look of thanks, before getting up, and knocking on the bathroom door. For a moment there is no reply.  
  
"Misty, you all right in there?" Another few seconds of worrying silence.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine." Her voice sounds a little rough.  
  
"Are you sure?" He replies, in a tone which just screams that he isn't.  
  
"Yeah, I'm almost done in the bath, Won't be long." The answer, a little stronger this time.  
  
"Well, okay." Ash just stares at the door for a few moments, knowing full well that he could go in and check if he really wanted to, since the door, after earlier events, is only being held shut by Misty's rucksack propped against it on the inside. But he just sighs and moves back over to us.  
  
("Why didn't you check?") Chikorita asks quietly, as I crawl over to where he's sat back down, on the edge of the middle bed.  
  
"Because it would have been intruding. I wouldn't want someone coming in to see if I was in the bath."  
  
("But you took Hazel's towels off...") A touch of jealousy there, Chikorita? Well, looks like Ash is going to have to fight ladies off with a stick at this rate.  
  
"I couldn't leave her in that state wrapped in damp towels, she could've caught a chill on top of whatever she's done to herself. I did what was best for her." He seems a little anxious though, as he says it. Looking back, it might seem like a rash thing to do. If Hazel were to over-react, Ash could be in big trouble. But I have a sneaking suspicion she won't.  
  
("Ash, would you tell me what it was you were going to earlier?") What was that? I think Ash isn't best pleased, since he throws Chikorita a "You never know when to keep quiet..." look.  
  
("What's this?") I nudge, trying to get him to explain. He gets up with a gentle sigh, leans over Hazel carefully, and begins speaking whilst checking her for response.  
  
"Cyndaquil, you said you talked to Hazel's Charmander?"  
  
("Yes, he seems nice, if timid.") He nods to himself almost as much as us at my answer. Something seems to catch his eye, and he moves closer to Hazel's face.  
  
"And what did Hazel call him when she first released him?" ....Oh.  
  
("She called him - Charlotte?!") I think Chikorita twigs at the same time as I do. She didn't know what sex her starter Pokemon was.  
  
("But you said she knew that Cyndaquil were rare in the mountains, and that it's not something a beginner would know.") Chikorita is chewing things over, and she isn't liking the taste. And neither do I.  
  
("Also, he wasn't really sure what he was doing there.") I add, and we all pause for a moment. I think we're all thinking the same thing, although none of us wish to voice it. Maybe, just maybe he isn't hers....So who was he with? Did she get him in a trade, or did she take him from someone else? But that just doesn't feel right, if the Charmander had been with someone else he would've mentioned it to me.  
  
("I'm officially confused. And suspicious.") Chikorita says quietly, gazing silently at the far wall, still thinking. Then Ash lets out a thoughtful noise.  
  
"This is odd." He peers in closer to Hazel's face, and runs a gentle finger over a few places. Did Misty say Hazel hit her face?" I think for a second, then shake my head.  
  
("No, she slipped up and hit the back of her head.")  
  
"Hmmm, well they couldn't be from today then, besides, they're almost invisible." What are "they"?  
  
("Whatcha on about?") Chikorita asks, coming around to the present.  
  
"She's got marks on her face, like very old scrapes. And a few shades where there might have been bruises. If I hadn't been helping Misty with her studies, I wouldn't have noticed them, but I know what to look for. The scratch she got from that holly bush when she met us is almost gone, but these are a bit older. I wonder how she got them." How indeed?  
  
("We'll add it to the list of things to ask her once she gets up. Which is too long already in my opinion.") I mutter dryly, to general agreement.  
  
("So, what to do now?") Chikorita shrugs. Misty is still in the bathroom, it's too late to be going anywhere, but a little too early to sleep just yet. And the television is out, since we're so far out in the mountains that our viewing choice consists of the twenty-four hour static channels, about five of them, and the weather channel. And I can get fed up of watching static in pretty short order.  
  
"Well, I've got some cards here, if you're up for a bit of Poker. Aces high, jokers are wild?" Ash pulls out of a bag a pack of very battered cards with the picture of a Horsea on the back. In fact battered would be doing them a disservice. Mutilated would fit better.  
  
("Yeah, I'll go for that.") I agree, knowing I'm going to get some more spending money now. No-one else has noticed that each card has different folds, notches, or a particularly dog-eared corner, so I don't need to see the faces. And they still wonder why I always clean up.  
  
I guess it's time I came out of here, I think they're starting to get worried. Well, if they're not too busy petting I-know-who. I pace the length of the bathroom for about the seven hundred and fifty-sixth time in the last hour and a half, fingers working at the hem of my pink pyjama top. I was in the bath briefly, for about half a second before it became very apparent that Hazel had used the last of the hot water. I got goosepimples on my goosepimples when I plunged just one toe into the frigid water. The boiler will probably be hot again by now, but I've lost interest. I'm just thinking. Thinking about nothing in particular. I guess Hazel's accident has made me consider about what I really think about her. I have always had problems with her, she's been like a vicious cat, snarling, spitting, scratching at me. But I get the feeling the cat has been put in a bag and thrown into a lake by someone in the past, and has somehow crawled out, drying itself off but destined to forever carry the watermark on her heart. Yet I still don't know exactly what. I hate to admit it, but it's her relationship with Ash which really galls me. He's amazingly like a father towards her, accepts her snarling with a pinch of salt. But whenever he's busy with her, I miss the time he would otherwise have been sharing with me. And Ash.I think I'm finally admitting it to myself, my feelings for him have developed to something nearing genuine love. The way he's always looked out for others, strangers, Hazel, his Pokemon, me. It makes me think he'll be a great father to someone in the future. And I just want it to be my child that has him as a father. But then again, it feels like I'm being replaced. Perhaps, just perhaps, he loved me more as who I was, not who I am. I pick up the mirror, and look into it. Scouring my face to try and pin down exactly what it is I need to change in it that would make him notice. I cannot see any. My eyes still aqua, my hair red, nose small, mouth expressive. The rest of me, I've grown, but..I think of the food I ate just a while ago. Rice guzzled like I was a starving gannet. Fried chips scoffed without giving time for a breath. Regret settles like a lead blanket across my shoulders, as I drop a hand to my still full abdomen. I think I need to go on a diet, starting tomorrow. A sigh whisps from between my lips, and I put the mirror back at the end of the bath. Well, time to go to bed. I put a hand on the door handle, think for a moment, then instead pick up the bag I'd been using it to prop it closed, and it swings open on it's own.  
  
"Three of a kind, eights."  
  
("Bugger, a two pair, sixes and sevens.")  
  
("Read it and weep guys, full house. Tens and fives.") Cyndaquil sounds triumphant, Chikorita groans like it's something she's heard too many times. I poke my head around the door to see the three of them sat on the middle bed, Ash lain full length with his feet dangling off the end of the bed and his head near the top end putting down his hand with a rueful smile, Chikorita studying the quilt miserably and fiddling with just a few coins, and Cyndaquil almost obscured by a huge mound of change. Looks like the usual result is on the cards. Heh, nice pun, even if I say so myself.  
  
"Everyone in for another round?" Ash asks, shuffling the pack with casino- dealer speed.  
  
("This could well be my last.") Chikorita grumbles, tossing in another few coins.  
  
("Do you need to ask?") Cyndaquil throws in his enterance bet.  
  
"And deal me in too." I put in quietly, enjoying the three pairs of eyes flicking to me, especially the brown ones with relief plainly shining from them.  
  
("And your bet?") Chikorita nudges verbally, possibly to try and break the eye contact between us. I reach into my bag, pull out a handful of coins, and rifle through them.  
  
"How much to buy in?"  
  
("Twenty pence, two rounds, jokers are wild.") I find a silver coin, and flip it into the kitty. Ash deals the cards with great speed, and I pick mine up. Mmmm, not bad.  
  
"So, what have you been doing?" Ash asks idly, picking up his own hand.  
  
"Relaxing."  
  
("In the bath?") Chikorita asks, disappointment scrawled over her face as soon as she sets eyes on what she's been dealt. She's never been good at bluffing.  
  
"Yeah." Ash gives me a puzzled look.  
  
"Why aren't your fingers crinkled up then?" True, they look perfectly normal, but not for someone who supposedly has spent the last hour submerged in water. Not a wrinkle in sight.  
  
"I've been out of the bath for a while, just reading my book. Hazel took it out of your bag, I think she slipped on it." He seems a bit unsure, but doesn't follow up the point.  
  
("Three please.") Cyndaquil picks up his new cards, expressionless. He could do this for a living, I never know what he's thinking.  
  
("Five.") Chikorita throws the lot in, and gets a whole new set. Her expression now suggests that it wasn't an improvement.  
  
"I'll take two." I put down two cards, picking up the ones Ash flips to me, and hide a smile. Mmmmm, better. "And I'll raise fifty pence." The others all comply.  
  
"Dealer takes three." We all sit in silence for a moment.  
  
("Three please.") Chikorita sets three cards aside, picks up the new ones, takes one look at them. ("And I fold.") She throws her cards in.  
  
("Two.") Cyndaquil looks at what he has, and then looks at myself and Ash carefully.  
  
"One." I look at my new card, and bite back a massive grin. "And I'll raise you three pounds." Cyndaquil shakes his head and throws his cards in. So. I gaze at Ash levelly, he returns it.  
  
"Met." He throws in three gold coins. "Dealer takes two." He picks up his fresh cards, and looks at me again. "And I'll raise five." He unravels a blue five pound note, and tosses it nonchalantly on the pile. I look at my hand again, and back up. Yeah, I'll take him.  
  
"I'm in." I give him a coquettish glance, and throw on a Marilyn Monroe- esque voice. "Show me what ya got, sugar!"  
  
"Only if you let it all hang out too darlin'" He replies, with a gambler style drawl. I slip him a wink, and then we both throw down our cards. And look up, and down again. My hand, two kings, two queens and a joker. Full house. His hand, Two queens, two kings and a joker..I don't know why it's funny, but we both burst into peals of laughter.  
  
("Well, shall we call it a night?") Chikorita motions to the total lack of money on the in front of her.  
  
"Yeah, okay. We could always watch the weather channel to help us get to sleep." I snigger, shuffling over to the bed near the window and flopping down onto it.  
  
"Well, we could check tomorrows forecast, just in case." Ash suggests. I know there's no point really. The weather is easy to predict up here. It's clear tonight, it'll be fine tomorrow.  
  
"Hey Ash, do you fancy playing a little game?" The old thing I used to play as a little girl comes back to me as I mess with the pack. And if I play my cards right....I'm on a roll for puns at the moment.  
  
"Go on."  
  
"Well, it's a sort of a fortune telling game. You say a name of a person, place or something, and I split the pack. Whatever card comes up, you have to explain how it relates to that person. Go on, take the cards, I'll show you." I hand him the cards, feeling like I'm eight again. "So, I'm thinking of....Home. Split the pack." He does, and looks at the card.  
  
"Ten of spades." He looks at me imploringly.  
  
"Uhh, well I guess....I lived there for ten years, and every year it felt like I was digging a deeper hole to get out of." Brutally honest. "Here, you have a go." I hold out my hands for the cards.  
  
"Well, I don't know if I'm going to come up with something that interesting. But sure, I'll have a go." He gives them to me, and inwardly I jump for joy. Maybe, given time tonight, I can get him talking about, well, me. Or at least, I can find out a few things....  
  
"Okay, I'm thinking of mum." I split the pack, the two of diamonds. He thinks for a moment, and into the silence hear Chikorita snort quietly. She's falling asleep.  
  
"Well, it's the way her eyes sparkle whenever I see her, like jewels." Well, I wish he'd said my name, but I know he's taking this seriously. And I'm glad.  
  
"Well, it's my turn again." I hand him the cards, and glance around the room. The glance takes in four other silent figures, well, except for Chikorita starting to snore. This is what I'd wanted.  
  
"Okay, so I'm thinking of...."  
  
It's now really quite dark, and the atmosphere has closed in too. Hazel still shows no sign of awakening, and the Pokemon are all snoring away happily. Now, it just seems to be myself and Misty in the dim light of a solitary lamp, sat close on the third bed. In a little world of our own. I shuffle the cards briefly, then hold them out for Misty to take. "Okay, I'm thinking of Brock." She cuts the pack, and looks down.  
  
"Six of clubs." I grin, it couldn't have been much more suitable.  
  
"It reminds me of the number of times you had to hit him with your mallet every day, to stop him drooling over someone." We both chuckle quietly at the thought. Then I feel a pang of sorrow. "He would have been snoring away right now, a year ago. I miss him, he may have acted like a dope at times, but he was as good a friend as you could ever find. And he still is." Misty's eyes daze with recollection.  
  
"Yeah, Brock was wonderful. He'll make a good husband for Suzy, as long as he curbs his libido." We both just sit silently for a while, recalling every time he'd made an idiot of himself around a girl, or cooked something really good out of nothing at all. Eventually, Misty shakes herself out of the memory. "Ah, my turn." She hands the cards to me, and thinks for a moment. "Okay, I'm thinking of..Togepi." Oh, this could be sensitive. I cut the deck, and look at the card. Nine of hearts. I look back up to see what Misty will make of it. Her eyes cloud again, but this time out of anguish rather than memory.  
  
"Ninth, that was the date he left me, and that was the day my heart broke over it." She runs her hands through her glowing hair, and I just wait. She's needed to relive this for too long, I hope she can now. "He grew up too fast, he was my baby. I guess I treated him too much like a child's doll, but deep down I wanted to be his mother for ever." She stops speaking, running her fingers through her hair once again, in an unconscious display of regret. On instinct, I reach out and grasp her arm gently, guiding her touch away from her flowing locks, and instead into my gentle grasp. She doesn't look at me, just starts speaking again, now in a voice delicate as finest silk. "I thought I could just let go, that it was like the parting of friends. But it wasn't. It was a bereavement. My baby has gone, Ash. I let him go, just like that, and it's as if he died. He's gone." I reach over to her and draw her in tightly, letting her shed silent tears of grief. I know how keenly I felt when I let one of my friends go like that, but for her Togepi was more than a friend.  
  
"Shhh, Misty, it's okay. Come on, you've locked this away for too long babe, just open the door, I'm here for you." I just let her cry for as long as she needs to, and she buries herself deeply into me, still making not a sound. Eventually, she lifts her face, and looks me in the eye. Her face is red and messy, but at the same time she looks as beautiful as she ever has. We just stay like that for a few moments, before the noise of Cyndaquil snorting and turning over shatters the painting.  
  
*Sniff* She sits back up, wiping at her eyes, until I draw a tissue from my pocket, and hand it to her. She gives me a look of silent gratitude, and dabs the wetness from her face, and quietly blows her nose. "Okay, it's your turn." I hand her the cards, surprised.  
  
"Are you sure you want to keep playing?" I ask, studying her carefully. She nods definitely in reply.  
  
"I needed that. But I'm alright, I've calmed down now, so are you going to disappoint me or are you in?" I nod, and think for a moment.  
  
"Okay, I'm thinking of Hazel." I can almost see Misty bite her lip, but she just cuts the deck. Three of clubs. Difficult. I think for a few seconds, searching for something, anything.  
  
"Well? You could always make another choice and we'll do it again..." She's not keen on the subject, as I expected. But no, I have a little thought hatching, I'm just trying to work out how to put it...  
  
"It's like she's being beaten by her past, her present and her future. She holds back her history, she holds little hope for her future, and she holds out to anyone in the present. But I love her anyway, I just want her to let me in." I'm too lost in my musings to notice Misty's face pale, or Hazel's eyes flicker open. By the time I've sunk back into reality, Misty is plucking idly at the edge of the card, and Hazel's eyes are shut again, although she's listening with every ounce of will her groggy mind can muster.  
  
"So, shall I have one last turn, and then call it a night?" She hands the cards to me without waiting for response, and looks out of the window into the starlit night sky, thumbs pressed together in thought. "Okay, I'm thinking of...the future. Yours and mine." Smiling at her choice I just shuffle once, and cut the pack. There, staring back at me, is....  
  
"The Joker. I guess that means we can't leave anything to chance...." I mutter to myself. Looking back to Misty, she almost looks aghast.  
  
"Well, I suppose that we'll have some misfortune, some mystery, and some laughter, but fate could decide for us..." Her face drops to something almost submissive. "I guess we'll have to wait and see. Well, good night Ash." With that, she slides off the bed, lifts the covers, and then slips beneath them quietly. Puzzled, at her abruptness, I move over to the middle bed and, careful not to disturb the Pokemon, get in. No-one makes a sound as I turn off the light, and then I just lay in the cloying darkness, just wondering what the last card meant.  
  
-------------------------  
  
  
  
Well, I guess that poses a few questions. And I'd like to see who you think the diary writer is. If you review, perhaps you could say who. Alternatively, answers on a postcard to....  
  
Uh, maybe not. Well, guess I'll see you soon!  
  
Dan. 


	4. Points of view

I'm sure you don't want the usual rating on, so I'll just get down to business.  
  
Big thanks to Heironeous and Cultnirvana once again for their checking and patience, this'd be unreadable without them! And of course hugs to all reviewers!  
  
On with the show.  
  
  
  
Where the River Flows - Chapter IV  
  
  
  
11.45PM, July 22nd - I guess when I look back on it, it was this night, lain in the quiet darkness thinking, that was the light to the candle. The candle which has melted down day by day, seemingly unnoticed.  
  
  
  
My eyes flick to the clock for the hundredth time in the last hour, to see it still proclaiming the middle of the night. I just can't sleep. I've tried laying on my back, on my side, on my front, with my arm under the pillow, with my thumb in my mouth, even with my knees to my chin and hands laced under my thighs, although that was never likely to work. I've tried counting stars in the night sky, sheep, ducks, Pikachus, snores, breaths, humming lullabies, romantic tunes, even Metallica. (Didn't expect that to work either). But no, the shroud of sleep remains as elusive as a really nice tasting vegetable. Now that was an odd thing to think. I mean I've never found a vegetable I really like, although potatoes come close if cooked the right way, but what does that have to do with getting to sleep? What does any of this have to do with getting to sleep? Ah, it's useless. I roll over, slowly sit up, and look at the sleeping face of the one I love, child-like in the darkness, hair falling across the face, obscuring sleeping eyes. There is nothing as innocent as someone encased in a dreamland, utterly blind to the outside world. It's where I wish I was at this time of the morning. Perhaps I would be dreaming about us being together, about romantic strolls in the twilight, about an all-enveloping hug to blind me from all the worries in my world. God knows there are enough of them. Even though I may conceal them from the others, they never seem to leave me. It's times like this, a sleepless night with the moon staring back at me, that I really think. About past and future. What the future holds, and what the past is holding. The past sure has it's hands full, but does the future just have it's fingers clutching at nothing? It's easy to be paranoid when nothing is certain, like walking in the fog. I might make the same mistakes as I had before, not really get anywhere. I might really make something of myself, but am I afraid of change? Or am I just clinging onto life as it is like it's a teddy bear, sucking on my thumb to ignore the inevitable bitter pills which I'll need to swallow if I am to progress?  
  
("Fishy fishy.") Pikachu murmurs drowsily, rolling over onto her front, before resuming her snoring. That's totally derailed my train of thought, thankfully. Fishy fishy? I don't think I want to know. Since it's her dream, I doubt I will. I resist the urge to giggle. Weird how schizophrenic the mind can be so late at night. Something about that was so funny. ("Uhhh, slimy, slimy fishies.") Now I do giggle. Just a moment ago I was working myself into a panicky frenzy, and now I'm laughing about Pikachu's subconscious fear of fish. Odd, that. I've always thought that laughing and crying were complete opposites, but maybe not. I mean, hysterical can mean both with laughter and tears. It's almost like they are linked. If something is really funny I've cried at the sheer joy of it, yet when something really painful happened, like when I lost my grandmother, when I first found out I felt like laughing. Not laughing with delight, but I just felt..like I wanted to laugh. I actually did when I got to my room, for about a minute, before the giggles changed wordlessly to whimpers. Why? I couldn't say. She was always so close to me, closer than almost anyone else, yet my first feeling was almost euphoric. But it was just the calm before the storm, the silver lining to the thunder cloud. Really odd. So, where was I before all that? Ahh, I don't know. Maybe I should just lay down in bed again, and try to dream of fish myself. I sink back down and twist wind the blanket between my legs, and then clutch tightly to the top of it, pulling it to my chest. As a substitute for a person to hold, it's okay. Just makes me feel secure, so that when I close my eyes once again, I might just dream that I'm holding that special someone instead.  
  
  
  
It's early morning. It must be, as the sun is shining through the window from low in the sky, just popping over the buildings opposite, straight into my face. Great, who didn't close the curtains last night? Come to think of it, what happened last night? I get the feeling I've been awake at some point, but for how long I don't know, it feels like I've not slept at all. The last thing I remember with any clarity was a Lapras. After I hit my head on the floor. Oh, a headache is just starting now, and it's already promising to be a killer. Erm, and there was something about a Joker too, but I'm not sure. I creak an eyelid open gently, trying to avoid being dazzled. The others are all snoozing away happily. So, I know who I am, where I am, and sort of what is going on. So, what next? Finding out the time? Okay. I ease up into a sitting position, and from there I get uneasily to my feet. In response the headache moves from pulsing intensity to thumping, with promise of further development. The only clock I can see is the one between Ash's and Misty's bed. Is it worth putting any clothes on to check? Well, not if it tells me I should go back to sleep. I drop the blanket I'd pulled up with me, and scoot around Ash to check. Quarter to six in the morning. Great. Well, at least I won't have to wait for too long. To be honest, this is nice, I always used to enjoy early mornings at home before anyone was awake. It was just about all the freedom I could get. And standing in a hotel room bathed in dawn sun is something I think everyone should try. A sniffle from a sleeper reminds me that I'm not alone, and I hurry back to my bed, and search for my bag. There it is, at the foot of the bed. Right, first up, underwear, a cleanish pair.no dice. So, the ones with minimal odour then. I really should have tried to get more than four sets of briefs before I left, though it's not like I had much chance. Hmmm, the new ones are probably the best bet, the rest were pretty well worn before I left home. I slip my feet into them, pull them on swiftly. In fact, I used to deliberately get up as early as I could stand it, it afforded me a little peace, and I could watch the sun rise over the Cerulean Sea. Before my family, if you could call it that, woke up. Then the day used to take a definite downturn. I tut to myself as I reach down into my bag for a bra which could still bend without cracking. Eeesh, laundry day is undoubtedly overdue.  
  
("Uhhhnn.. ..") Cyndaquil, the only other member of the room who is facing the window, moans sleepily and turns his head. Quickly I scurry over to the window and pull the thick blue curtains shut, cloaking the room in shadow, and smile as he settles back down again. My sudden burst, however, is rewarded with the headache increasing to a bloody ridiculous level. I go back to my bed and sit down on it, my brain seeming to creak more than the springs of the busted mattress. It's only when I look at it with a headache I realise this room is a bit of a dump. The beds have seen better days, even the walls look shabby. My hands work of their own accord, dressing me without conscious thought as I scan my surroundings. The net curtains could do with a wash, mind you, you couldn't hardly see through the ones which used to hang around my windows. Compared to my bedroom, this place is almost a palace. A green pair of shorts are on now, and a round-necked T- shirt has found it's way onto my body. Back to front. Always the same, dressing without thinking about it. Something ends up out of place.  
  
"Um, what time is it?" Ash mutters sleepily, and without looking at me, rolls over to look at his clock. "Too early, way too early. Maybe I could just get baaa.. .." His murmurings are interrupted by a huge yawn. ".. ..aaack to sleep.. .." At about that moment, a breath of wind gasps through the closed curtains and spreads them, sending a laser shaft of light into his face. "Ah, bloody sun!" He rolls away from the light, and his eyes meet mine.  
  
"Good morning." I feel a smile walk onto my face, and my cheeks heat up. I don't know why, it's not like me to get bashful or anything. "The same thing woke me up, blasted sun doesn't wait for long before it gets everyone awake in the summer." He gives a sleepy smile, lifting his head up and propping it on his hand. His hair, shaggy and unstyled, slips over one eye and looks so tousled that it's almost forming a knot. It's also hard to ignore his quite muscular arm, and a rather toned chest peeking out from under the blanket.  
  
"You feeling better this morning?" I nod, my own grin fading quickly.  
  
"Yeah. I can't remember much. Just falling over." He looks like he's thinking, and I'm instantly on my guard.  
  
"So you don't remember me coming back in then?" I feel my eyes harden, face become featureless as a wall, voice grow toneless, my natural response to questioning.  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh, okay." He pauses, before adopting a gentler tone. "I was wondering, would you like to come to the pub for lunch later.. .." A little bird twitters a warning in my ear, but too late to stop me snipping him short.  
  
"No."  
  
"Okay, keep your voice down, it is early in the morning you know." He chides quietly, before shooting me a piercing look. "But why don't you want to come in for lunch? Apparently they do a really good pie and chips. Well, they do anything as long as it can either come with chips and peas, or can be classed as a curry." I just shrug.  
  
"I don't like pubs much." I make it sound simple, what I want to say is I despise them, hate them, vomit when I think of one.  
  
"Why?" I hate that word.  
  
"Just because." I can see he's unconvinced.  
  
"Hazel, last night, when I came in.. ..I came to check on you as you were lying on the bed." Alarm bells start ringing in my head. This doesn't sound good, no, this sounds bad. Quick, start thinking of ideas, get a head start. It's several seconds before I notice Ash has been watching my reaction closely, and I know my daze has already told him more than my denial could.  
  
"What happened?" I curse the slip. It just shows that I'm worried, that there might just be something I'm protecting.  
  
"Well, when I came in, ah, oh forget about it." He lays back down, looking like he's going to sleep again.  
  
"No, tell me."  
  
"Why are you so desperate to know?" Shit! I lock eyes with him, and grab the best answer which I can.  
  
"Because I've known enough backstabbers to not want anyone to know what I don't, right?" I reply in an indignant growl, a pang of anger flitting into me. I hate it, hate it when I'm caught with a weakness.  
  
"Like who?"  
  
"There were lots of them."  
  
"Lots?" I feel my anger grow hotter, and raise my voice to almost a shout.  
  
"Yes, lots! Are you deaf or something?!" His head snaps around, looking to the others in the room, and then turns again at the sight of four sleeping bodies.  
  
"Hazel, keep your voice down." He mutters, suddenly sounding brisk.  
  
".. ..Okay."  
  
"I know full well you don't want a certain person to wake up while you're talking." I bristle at the "you're", and decide to try and end it.  
  
"I don't want to be talking at all, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to run myself a bath." I slip myself off the bed, hearing him sigh in frustration, and strut towards the bathroom entrance after grabbing my bag.  
  
"Hazel?" I pause, hand on the handle of the broken door, and look up. He fixes me with a quick stare, before his whole appearance seems to soften, and he slips me a gentle smile. "Make sure you don't slip, I don't want you getting hurt again." He adds a wink, and I feel my face start to heat up, a blush spreading from my chest and spreading upwards with the speed of a hurricane, and with the same unstoppability.  
  
"I'll make sure, Ash." With a grin I'm through the door and it's shut behind me, with the bag propped against it. Only then do I allow a tiny sigh, allow my eyelids to close delicately with wordless delight. How is it just a little smile and a few kind words can do this to me? Or is it just because he's the one saying it? For a second I imagine it just being Ash and me, and my wild fantasies coming true.. .. But it's time to get back to the present, and run that bath. It's a little early for one, but it's not a treat I've had often, even including last night. And besides, I have to keep up the idea that I wasn't just coming in here as a cover that I didn't want him to know something. Yet a few little thoughts keep nagging me as I set the water running and get undressed. He knows something. And he's not going to be fooled by a few denials. And I want someone to run to, talk to, even cry to. And I think I trust him.. .. do I? Ah, to hell with it. I dip one toe in the water and check it's not too hot, before stepping into the part-full tub and sitting down. It's too early in the morning for thinking, especially when I've got a headache, and the thoughts are unwanted.. ..  
  
  
  
I prick my ears up, trying to pick out a delicate noise that had drifted into them from upon the breeze. Nothing more, so I pick up my gaze and scan around, interested. It's not a threatening noise, but it was familiar, and it'll itch all day unless I find it's source. Ah, there, right up in that tree, a nest. As I watch, a tiny head peeks out of the side, and gives a plaintive cheep.  
  
"What is it Pikachu?" Ash crouches down and sights along where I'm pointing, before a slight smile tweaks at his mouth. "They're a bit late hatching, aren't they? Well, it sounds like they want their dinner, and they might not get it if we stay by here, so let's move along." I nod in response, and hop further along the path. We've been staying in that village for a few days rest, and today Ash decided to go for a walk. Hazel said she wanted to go shopping, and Misty said she's got a bit of a cold, and can't find the energy. So, it's just Ash and me, well, Chikorita and Cyndaquil are here too, but they're off out of sight somewhere.  
  
("Gorgeous day.") I sigh, stopping to breathe deeply, sampling the fine taste of clear mountain air, perfumed by wild scents which can't be captured by a bottle.  
  
"It is, really gorgeous." Strolling along a worn path, alongside a stream just visible through a line of trees. It's sort of a valley, there are great grassy hills either side of us which become more rocky at the very edge of my vision, but the valley bottoms out and flattens, leaving a long, thin strip of flat land between them, weaving it's way along the stream. Long grass sways lazily, here and there a field of wheat rustles, tress scattered around like someone has planned some massive join the dots puzzle out of the land itself, to be viewed from a great height. The bubbling of the water running as the path moves right onto the riverbank only adds to the tranquillity, tranquillity which is almost celestial. Clear and flawless as a sheet of glass.  
  
("Boo!") A sheet of glass that is shattered by the hammer that is Chikorita, launching herself out of a clump of weeds and into me, bundling me over and straight into the stream, which is fortunately only a foot deep.  
  
("Bastard! This is cold!") I howl as she rights herself with a cheeky grin. I fling myself back up onto the bank, ready to give her a good smack but hold off as, unseen behind her, hands reach down and pick her up quickly. I give Ash a wink, followed by drawing my forefinger across my throat and pointing to Chikorita. It's wind up time.  
  
"Now that wasn't nice, was it? Why should you deserve any treats when you go and do that to her?!" With a few angry words her cheeky aura fades quick as a sunlight fades behind a cloud, and is replaced by abject misery. Ash raises her to eye level, and just looks at her sternly, almost glaring for a moment. In response she almost shrivels, like dry leaves on a bonfire. "Well, was it?" Ash repeats coolly, shooting me another wink as her eyes look away, shameful as a schoolgirl who has been called to the headmaster for flashing her knickers at the boys.  
  
(".. ..No.") She whispers, utterly submissive.  
  
"Pardon?" Ash can't stop himself grinning, as she hangs her head even more in misery.  
  
(".. ..No.") Just a little louder, but still a whisper.  
  
"I think you should apologise to Pikachu, don't you?"  
  
(".. ..'es") He turns her to face me, and I have to fight to stop myself giggling, she looks woebegone as a wet puppy.  
  
"Go on then." She's silent for a moment, then:  
  
(".. ..'ry 'kachu.") Spoken so quietly that I can't even pick out the start of each word.  
  
"I don't think she heard you." A sigh, and once again she speaks a fraction louder.  
  
(".. ..Sorry Pikachu.") I nod to Ash, and he gently sets her down.  
  
"Now don't do that again. Oh, and Pikachu, next time you ask me to tease someone, do it a little more subtly, Chikorita almost saw you signalling." He turns on his heel and continues down the path. I give Chikorita a snide grin, before pulling down an eyelid and sticking my tongue out at her, before jogging off, sniggering. Judging by her glare as we move around a gentle bend and out of her sight, she's just figured out that she's been wound up, and she's not going to forget it in a hurry.  
  
("I enjoyed that.") I titter quietly, falling back into step alongside my human companion.  
  
"She does need taking down a peg or two now and then." He sighs, head leant back, eyes raking the sky. I look up too, and pick out what I think he has seen. Just visible ahead, over the top of a slate coloured slope about a mile away, there are a few wispy grey clouds just slipping along. They are pretty high, but they're coming from the north. And we know what that means.  
  
("I get the feeling we won't want to be going anywhere tomorrow.") Ash gives an affirmative grunt in response.  
  
"Nope. It's probably going to absolutely tip down. Only one type of weather comes from the north around here, and that's bad weather." Even as we've been watching a little more cloud seems to spill over the ridge in the distance, creeping with slow certainty south. By tonight, it'll probably be in a high blanket across the whole area. And that's just the introduction, the show won't have even begun. Once again we both gladly sink into the stupor of total relaxation, like it's a mattress after a hard day of work. And the last couple of days have been hard. Misty has been touchy, Hazel stand-offish, everyone getting under everyone else's skin, I think I've shocked everyone barring Ash in the last twenty-four hours. Ash has been the common ground for everyone, since Hazel and Misty aren't exactly good mates, and I've been getting pissed with Chikorita recently, she's being too cheeky and possessive, especially with everyone stuck together for a five-day stay in a three-bed room in a one-horse town. When it's time to let off a little steam, Ash is the first choice. Hazel likes to talk to Cyndaquil too, for some reason, and since she's still being taught Poke language and getting much better very, very quickly, she's starting to get some answers she understands too.  
  
("Do you remember the first time we were out in a storm around here?") A voice asks idly into the silence, and both Ash and myself almost die of coronary failure. I spin around to see my fire-type friend sat with his back to a tree on the riverbank, eyes half-closed.  
  
("Yes.") I'd rather not remember it though.  
  
("You were half asleep and the first bang was so intense you.. ..")  
  
("Okay, okay, we were all there, remember!") I speak over him, hopefully loud enough to not hear what he's saying, since I don't want to be reminded.  
  
(".. ..took ages to dry out, and it still has the stain.") Ash snorts quietly, and I give Cyndaquil a Look. Not a look, a Look. The sort that deserves a capital letter to do it justice. The type which, if it were possible that looks could kill, would see Cyndaquil laying in state on a slab in some random coroner's office before he could have a last cigarette.  
  
"It was one hell of a storm. The weather doesn't mess about around here. The first rumble of thunder sounded like a rock slide." Ash murmurs, taking careful aim before kicking a loose stone into the stream, where it sinks with a barely audible plop. "From my point of view the best part was Misty screaming "I hate thunderstorms!" and hurling herself into my arms until it was over. By which time she was asleep, so we stayed that way until the next morning.. .." Cyndaquil and I exchange an "oh boy" glance as our human partner dozes off into dreamland while still stood upright.  
  
("Okay *Brock*, whenever you're ready.") Cyndaquil's jibe knocks Ash back into reality, and he scratches the back of his head in embarrassement.  
  
"Eh-heh, not quite. I hope." A blush briefly adorns his face, but it's gone before anyone else would notice. "I remember looking out of the tent through an open flap, watching the lightning forks dancing across the sky that night. It was if it was hopping from one peak to another all around us, sat down in the valley. It was beautiful, terrifying, but still beautiful." It was, once I'd gotten over the surprise. People who don't know me would wonder why a Pikachu would be scared of a storm, since I produce lightning naturally. But a real thunderstorm, the raw power, the noise, the sheer force of it, it's something which needs to be respected. When the first flash-bang went off, it was like a bomb had struck. I was so surprised that I shot into the air, knocking a half cup of coffee over Misty's medical book before shooting into the corner of the tent we were in and hiding under a pillow. It's not much, but I don't like looking cowardly, it's not something I normally am. Mind you, Chikorita and Misty both screamed their heads off, which was more deafening than the storm.  
  
("Do you think we should be heading back? Just in case the rain closes in?") I suggest hopefully, since my feet are killing me, and the peace of mind has gone.  
  
"If you're ready." I nod, and Cyndaquil languidly rolls over and gets up onto all fours before giving his assent. With that, Ash puts two fingers to his mouth, and emits a piercing whistle. In moments, Chikorita crashes through the undergrowth and takes up a defensive stance until it's quite clear there's no-one else here. Then she just looks embarrassed by the entrance.  
  
("Nice, right out of a Jackie Chan movie.") Chikorita growls at my sniggered joke.  
  
("Well I don't know, it might have been an attack by a wild Pokemon! And considering the ease with which I tricked you earlier, I don't trust anyone else to defend Ash better than me!") The last remark cuts deep, very deep. I can feel the anger spreading with the speed of a gunshot, like poison.  
  
("I'd trust myself over you any day. At least I can take out a flock of spearow single handed, you couldn't take down one which was tied to a tree!") She storms towards me, and we almost square up, just trying to outstare each other. I can't help but worry though, worry that she holds the cards. For this happened once before, and I ended up in trouble. The sort of trouble which resulted in a long stay in a Pokecenter for me and Ash.  
  
("Are you man enough to back yourself, or are you a mouse? Oh, sorry, I forgot, you are a mouse. And you're scared, I can see it.") Her snarl grows triumphant as I just feel my shoulders sag a little, and I can feel a sheen of tears beginning to form in my eyes. Normally I'd be the one to floor her with wit, but sometimes something comes over Chikorita when she gets really angry. Something that frightens me. ("If you're scared of me, why not admit I'm the one who is stronger?") Electricity flutters from my cheeks out of anger, but my heart flutters out of uncertainty. I know Chikorita is normally just trying to wind me up, but right now she's serious, and I don't want to hurt a friend.  
  
("Leave it, just leave me alone!") But I know that she's not quite so worried about hurting me. She's still very young, and petty. That was the trouble last time. That and a little thing called jealousy.  
  
("Hey, I'm where I want to be, so why don't you just f-")  
  
"Chikorita. Back off." Ash's barked command stops her dead.  
  
("For christ's sake, what are you starting that crap up for?!") Cyndaquil flares his quills, and steps between us. ("That's so stupid, you promised to forgive and forget, for us as much as yourselves!")  
  
("She started it.") Chikorita states limply now her rage is cooling. I feel a little dread slip into my mind at the words - "She started it" was how it all began the last time. It began a feud which went on for too long, and nearly ended with tragedy.  
  
"Stop it, don't even think about it. Chikorita, you've no right to use the past to abuse her, I'm disgusted that you'd even consider it." Chikorita drops her head at Ash's dark tone and stares at the ground for a few seconds.  
  
("But, but I.. ..")  
  
"No buts." To my surprise, it sounds like she chokes off a sob.  
  
("Sorry.") She gasps throatily, before suddenly turning tail and running into the undergrowth. For a moment we all look to one another, stunned. Then the emotion of the fight returns in full force, and I have to bite back the liquid fleeing into my eyes.  
  
("I'm sorry too, but why did you have to try and bring it up? Just to attack me?") I strangle the last few words out, before succumbing to the inevitable. I feel Ash take me into his hands as I cry, and I take the opportunity to bury my face in his shirt.  
  
("I'll go after her.") Cyndaquil doesn't wait for a response, just rushes straight into the grass, following Chikorita's scent.  
  
"Well, this was an otherwise peaceful afternoon, yes, Pikachu?" I raise my bleary eyes, and feel a small smile peck at my mouth as it takes in his face.  
  
("Yeah, I guess.") I sniffle a bit, and then add ("You're not worried about her?") He shakes his head, as he turns back down the path, heading to civilisation.  
  
"Yes, but she's gone off like this before, Cyndaquil knows what to do. Besides, she's too loyal to me, and deep down to you too, to just run off." From over his shoulder, I see a few more clouds have entered the tide of grey slowly easing it's way south.  
  
("I just hope they get back before it starts raining.") He nods definitely.  
  
"They will, they will. Now let's try and enjoy a little of this walk home, since we'll be getting plenty more from where that came from soon, that's for sure."  
  
  
  
"Do you want any help?" I fight the desire to answer "No, I can help myself, thanks." And turn to the lady owning the shop with a false smile.  
  
"I'm fine, just browsing for now." Although "I can help myself" would probably be more accurate. Sniggering, I turn back to a rack of clothes lining one wall of the shop, trying to get my shoulder bag in a more comfortable position. If I didn't know better, I'd swear this was a charity shop, judging by the weird stuff all over the place, from books which are so dog-eared that a mongrel would be ashamed, to old pots which I'm not even going to guess the use of. The thing which makes me know better? Well any charity shop charging this much for a skirt isn't very charitable. I put it back on the rack, keenly aware of the bright, bird-like eyes of the lady behind me fixed unblinking on my back. Money is no problem, I've got enough to pay.  
  
"Hi Nan!" I look over my shoulder, and see the white-haired head turn around to the doorway, where a young man is peeking into the shop.  
  
"Danny! My, it's been a while." A smile lights up her face, making the few wrinkles vanish. The man steps inside, a smile written on his own face, shutting the door behind him. To anyone else he'd be just another person, but to me he's only one thing. A distraction. This trip could be cheaper than I thought.  
  
"It has." The lady makes her way around the counter and they give each other a hug. Perfect. I reach out, slip the bag off my back, and stuff a pair of jeans, a loose grey-blue blouse and a cute little strapless number (probably for someone a few years my senior) into it. They would have to be anorexic, but I don't want to meet the person who designed it if it was designed for someone my age. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, right? And I've got no problem wearing it, as it might give me an advantage. So long as it doesn't mean someone gets the wrong idea. Uhgh, don't even think of that.  
  
"So, how has the year gone? You getting on okay at your studies?" He nods, and I re-shoulder my bag. She takes him around the counter, and they both sit down on chairs placed behind it. Carefully keeping my face neutral I pick up a few items of underwear, a loose flowery skirt, and a bathing suit, before taking them over. As I plonk them down by the cash register both pairs of eyes move back up to me, and I give them a grin. One, after a moment, they both return.  
  
"Okay, I think this is all for now." I say, feeling guilt trying with all it's might to seep into my tone.  
  
"Right, let's see what we've got here." The lady gets up slowly, and I grimace at the way every joint seems to creak, and at the parchment-fine skin on her thin hands turning over the goods with careful movements.  
  
"So, you here on holiday?" The boy asks, flicking his brown fringe out of his eyes. I just nod, watching the old lady now type the numbers into the till. An old cardigan and all, she reminds me so much of my grandmother. "It's nice around here this time of year, but there's a nasty storm coming in tonight, so I wouldn't go anywhere."  
  
"Okay." I reply absently, lost in thought. How long ago was it? Oh, a few years now.. ..  
  
"That'll be thirty-one pounds, thirty-four pence." She looks up at me again, and her eyes twinkle. "Shall we call it thirty?" Right here, right now, I want to do one of two things. Die on the spot, or throw the contents of my bag onto the desk and burst into tears. But neither does my heart stop or my eyes water, and as I come around from my panic attack I find myself picking up the carrier bag and saying goodbye, before leaving post haste and heading to the door. It spits me out into the street like the scum I am, depositing me onto the pavement and shutting firmly behind me. Strange. This isn't the first time I've stolen, not by a long shot. But for some reason it was different here. Perhaps it was the old woman, or the fact it is only a little shop. Or perhaps it's because I've just realised what a down and dirty little piece of crap I really am. The little voice which as always reassured me that it isn't my fault has got laryngitis. One thing in particular makes me feel hollow, and that was the way that the lady's face lit up when her grandson peeked through the door, and the fact I used it as a cover to steal cruelly and cynically from her. And the fact I stole from more than just her to get my clothes. And maybe bitterness at seeing what I don't have.. ..  
  
"Stop it!" I mutter viciously to myself, stepping out of the doorway and setting off down the street, casting a glance at the darkening skyline. It's not my fault I couldn't ask Ash and Misty for a loan, or that I'm a little isolated right now. I'm just - just a little unlucky. That's all. But my long-neglected conscience is sniggering quietly at the edge of hearing. The house is going to come down, all of it, soon. I shut the door on the burning kitchen, and just now a few curls of smoke are filtering through the cracks. I just hope I can run far enough to not see the flames. Or at the very least avoid getting burnt.  
  
  
  
How long since I last took a paracetamol? Only three hours? Ohhh god, a whole hour until my next little window of happiness then. I place my fingers to my temples and massage them. It says on the packet take one to two tablets every four hours, so why do they only work for three? I take one hand from the side of my head to brush away a few stray red hairs which are getting on my nerves. It just gives me a better view of the ceiling. Well what else did I expect when I'm laying prone on a bed? Gawd, what a time to come down with a cold and a headache. Right when I'm miles from somewhere with decent television. The only good part about being ill is watching something you enjoy on a TV, it kinda restores the balance, and takes the mind off any pounding headache that might be present. Even out in the wilderness, Ash would have been waiting on me hand and foot, letting me rest my head in his lap. He did offer to stay, but my head wasn't so sore then. Nor my throat so dry, or my eyes so tired. But if he had stayed, he would have ended up force-feeding me things that I don't really want to eat. I feel hungry, but at the same time don't want to eat, it must be the illness. I could've guessed it was coming, I've barely felt like eating for a few days, my appetite has been a bit off-colour. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose to try and ward off the sharp, pulsing ache that has sprung up again. It's like someone has pushed a red-hot needle up each nostril and is trying to insert it into my eyes from beneath. Ah, hell to it, I'm going to have another couple of tablets, and if I die of an OD it'll be a positive relief from what I'm experiencing now, that's certain. I slide myself gingerly off the bed and stand up, rewarded with the traditional increase of pain that it brings. There must be some bible-esque rule book in the body with guidelines for illness. Commandment number one is probably "Thou shalt not stand up." Makes sense, it's best to do as little as possible when feeling like this. I wander into the bathroom where we keep the medical stuff, and pop out two little tablets from their packaging, before downing them with a few mouthfuls of water from out of a dirty glass. I refill the glass, and take it with me back into the bedroom. For some reason I find myself thinking that out of all the ways of passing away, an overdose seems like a pretty easy option, not painful or anything. On the scale of one to ten about one point seven. A bit of a macabre thought, but that's just what comes to mind. Well, to my mind, which is both very bored and in constant agony, so I guess it's not in a happy-happy- sun-is-shiny-I'm-so-glad-I'm-alive mood. I think the sun outside is still shiny, but I had the foresight to draw the curtains, so it's as dim as possible in here. One saving grace about my state of illness is that I'm not likely to be getting in any verbal scraps with anyone soon. I glance at the clock. About two in the afternoon. I blink once..  
  
  
  
Half-three? That was one long blink. Well my head isn't quite as painful as earlier, but the drugs are probably working at their peak at the moment. I reach over, grab the glass of water and drain it, feeling a little dizzy. The world seems surreal, out of focus. A quick glance around the room tells me I'm still alone. Where is everyone? Ash probably won't be long. I hope not anyway, I'd like his company. At least if I'm ill he'll lavish more attention on me. He always has before. But then again he hasn't had a catty little bitch latched onto him before either. Hah, unless you count me. Okay, I'll face it, Hazel reminds me of, well, me a long time ago. Fighting tooth and nail for little things to call her own, and to score little points. And I'll face something else too, I'm incredibly, unbelievably jealous of her. And it's simply because of one person, and every second he spends with her. I'm almost counting them. Putting them in an imaginary piggy bank, so that I can smash it to show him the cost when she's gone. Something tells me I'm being unreasonable, but I tell it that I'm just being realistic. It's only a matter of time until one view out voices the other. Then I guess I'll come to terms, or I'll go completely off the handle, over the top, through the roof. God, I'm messed up. Here I am lain in a strange room with an uncompromising headache, and I'm so busy trying to reason that reason itself escapes me. One thing is undying in my thoughts though. How Hazel is so like the preteen me. Funny really, someone I can't stand is someone who is like me. There is nothing worse than a mirror, it shows all faults, unvarnished and naked to the eyes of the beholder. But this is a mirror in so many more dimensions. The style, the tone, the manners, she even looks like me discounting the hair and eyes. What I really want is to go back to who I was. And prove I'm better than her to Ash, and to myself. I'm determined, it seems like the only way out of this confusion. To become who I was in the early days. To have Ash not only as a friend, maybe as a protector. To escape responsibility, and to recapture the happiness of childhood. No, stop it. this is perverse in the extreme. It's perverse it can't be done. I've got older, grown. Who I am is not who I was. And I don't always like who I was. If I were younger, Ash could never love me as a lover. But it's tempting, so tempting. And it's possible, it must be. But it isn't, it can't be. Can it? Can't it? Can it? Can't it?  
  
"I'm going fucking insane!" I yell, just to hear my own voice in an attempt to regain order. It does silence the thoughts spinning round and round in my mind, like a dog chasing it's tail, but the space it vacates is taken up by yet more headache. Great. It's preferential to those really weird thoughts, but not by a lot. I sigh, and try to relax again. But that idea is stopped by the click of a lock.  
  
"Feeling any better?" The voice I've been pining to hear washes into my ears, with the effect of a double dose of medicine. I twist to see him, in time to watch his face crease with concern. "I guess not, you look like a zombie." He sits down gingerly on the bed and puts his palm to my head.  
  
"I've felt better." I manage to croak pitifully, delighted at the touch.  
  
"I'd say, you've got one nice fever there. Taken anything?" He moves a little closer, now brushing his hands through my hair. I resist the urge to purr.  
  
"Paracetamol."  
  
"Do you need a drink?" He gestures to the empty glass. I nod with a tiny grin, and he reaches across to pick it up before heading to the bathroom. As I cautiously prop myself up against the headboard, my slightly furry view picks out Pikachu on the next bed, looking curious. Hmmmm.  
  
"Where are the others?" The tap begins running, and Ash calls out over the noise.  
  
"Chikorita had a bit of a fizz and took off. Cyndaquil is going to cool her off and bring her back. It's happened before, remember? Cyndaquil is best off dealing with it, since I'm sorta the bone that's being fought over." He makes it sound funny, but I can hear a little stress in his tone. But it hits me now, the guilt. Ash being fought over like two dogs over a bone. And not just by Chikorita and Pikachu, but by Hazel, and of all people, me.. .. "Here you go, one glass of water, fresh from the tap." He grins, bringing the glass over to me, and sitting down on the bed again.  
  
"Thanks Ash." I reply, and take the glass, trying to ignore the shaking of my hands thanks to the rising fever. But the water spilling over the lip of the container destroys the attempt pretty quickly.  
  
"Let me help." My heart gives flutter as Ash places his hands tenderly around mine, guiding the rim to my mouth. I drink slowly, as much to savour his touch as the water slipping down my dry throat.  
  
"Better?" I nod as he takes the glass from me and puts it to one side, but feel drowsiness flowing swiftly back into consciousness.  
  
"Bit tired though.. .." Emphasised by a huge yawn. I feel myself relax, head nod, and it's almost like I've no control, sleep has overtaken me again so quickly.  
  
"Well just relax, you need your sleep." I hear him reply softly. My mind, floating in the clouds, lets the lips say what they want to say. I don't care, I'm too tired, and Ash is with me.  
  
"Love you.. .." With that, there is nothing but darkness.  
  
  
  
Just had to have that at the end. But for what Ash's reaction is, you'll have to read next time.. ..  
  
Don't forget to review!  
  
Dan. 


	5. It never rains

Hi everyone!  
  
First things first, an apology for the sheer length of time this chapter has taken me. The combination of a little writer's block, a huge exam, and too much coursework. But the next chapter is in the pipeline, and shouldn't be as long in coming (hopefully ^_^;).  
  
And once again, big thanks to Cultnirvana, without whom this would be unreadable. And to all you reviewers, luv ya all loads for taking the time. Hope I can keep on entertaining you all - fingers crossed!  
  
Well, that's all for now, on with the show...  
  
  
  
Where the River flows - Chapter V  
  
  
  
Midnight, July 22nd - Tomorrow. D-day. It may be all, may be nothing. But the coin has been tossed, and all coins come down one way or the other. Now it's not tomorrow, its today. And I want it all to go away. I want it all to go away. All to go away. Just away. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of my mind, that's where I've gone. Fuck it all. I don't know what to do. If I win, I lose. Which is more precious, me or I? But today, I, I will find my destiny.  
  
  
  
My breathing is harsh and heavy, mouth wide open, taking great lungfuls of air as I struggle to keep up in the chase. Chikorita is quicker than I ever gave her credit for. Or maybe I'm just getting lazy. I resist the temptation to chuckle, conserving all my energy for running. This has happened before, and it was muggins here who did the hard yards then too. Not to say Ash didn't, but I had to chase her down, and talk her into listening. Ash knows that Chikorita won't listen to him when she's worked up, because she's so possessive. She ends up hysterically declaring something ridiculous, then gets upset because she's told she's wrong, and yells that Ash is being biased towards so-and-so. But I've got a knack, a way of calming people down. I am naive, yes, but only to the way of the world, politics and technicalities. I can clearly see when someone is pissed off or depressed. And then it's just being logical, saying what I think should be said when it's needed. Simple, but effective. My one weakness is the fallacy of exaggeration. Up ahead of me, the crashing of undergrowth ends, and, sensing the end of the pursuit I put on an extra spurt to catch her. And fall flat on my face as the long grass suddenly parts, removing the resistance I was leaning into. Shaking off the daze and blinking away stars, I scan the clearing. Just a patch of short grass surrounding a huge tree, it's immense canopy throwing the area into shadow. A Horse chestnut tree, I think. And deep in its cloak of shadow, huddled against the gnarled and rough trunk, a little figure. Chikorita, face buried in a soft tuft of grass at the base of the trunk, trembling silently. She is still such a child, imagining that the world will go away if you hide it from view. Barely younger than me, but still holds a mile wide streak of youthful idealism, and the way she's almost waiting for everything to go away and then for her eyes to dry before she looks up again speaks volumes. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to disappoint her.  
  
("You can't stay there forever, you know.") I intone gently, pacing towards her. The reply is a sniffle. I keep on coming closer, taking my time. Every second I don't speak is one she has to wait to hear what I will say next. And her imagination will be running in overdrive, telling her that she can't hide, that she's already been found, and she's going to have to face the music. Now I'm beside her, and I lay down gently. So close she can hear my breathing. In, out, in, out. Just marking each moment that is passing, innocently reminding that life goes on as usual. Eventually, she snaps.  
  
("I can try.") With a voice like a creaking gate signalling the presence of tears on her face. Not unusual.  
  
("Can you?") I reply.  
  
("Yes.") I decide to take the future in my hands, and push her.  
  
("Liar.") Simple, but effective. She raises her sweet, tear-stained face and looks at me accusingly.  
  
("I can wait as long as I want.") She irksomely snaps, scowling furiously.  
  
("No you can't, not really. You love Ash too much to lay here until you've gone, you know that.") And I know that too, I add subconsciously. She won't. Ash is her heart. She resisted joining him, but ever since, without him she's lost, like she is now.  
  
("Maybe...") That simple word is a give away. Suggesting restraint while opening a huge chasm of doubt.  
  
("Yeah, and I'm a hedgehog.") She bridles, and spits her reply.  
  
("Leave me alone. I don't need anyone, let alone you.")  
  
("Yes you do, else you wouldn't have stopped running.")  
  
("Bullshit.") I bite my tongue, resisting the desire to reply caustically.  
  
("Come on Chikorita, I know how you feel.") I expect this comment to make her react with anger. But it doesn't.  
  
("How can you?") She sounds so bitter, distraught. And, for once, I'm caught out, I can't. I open my mouth to explain, but just end up stuttering. ("See, you can't, can you?") There is no triumph in her tone, no victory in her voice. Just hollow. Somewhere, deep in the cobwebs of my memory, recollections of the last time I tried to help scream at me that it isn't supposed to go like this.. ..  
  
("No, I can't.") I admit honestly. ("But it doesn't mean I can't try to help.") I add, just as honestly.  
  
("Doesn't mean you can help though.") She turns away from me, fresh tears promising to fall. I study the form of pure desolation with a feeling of helplessness. I don't know what to say. But I feel I have to say something.  
  
("I do see what you mean, kinda. That was a little unfair, that you got chewed out when Pikachu insulted you first.") The little light in the corner of the mind that is like an early warning system gives a precautionary flash, like the sort that warns a burglar that opening this door would be a really bad, if not a two years imprisonment and one hundred hours community service type mistake. But for once I ignore it. I hate to see someone upset, and I'll do just about anything to bring them around. Sometimes, even lie.. .. ("I think that Ash and Pikachu should apologise. You got frustrated because you were wound up by them, and then taken down because you said something out of anger.") I don't really. The stress and injury the last incident caused to both Ash and Pikachu were really beyond reason for the cause, and using it as a taunt is as effective as a crowbar to open the nailed down hatches caging censored thoughts.  
  
("Really?!") Lifting her head and eyeing me with a wet yet piercing look, trying to verify my proclamation of support. ("So, you'd tell Pikachu that she was being unfair?") I nod mutely. And regret doing so.  
  
("But don't you think you might be responsible at all?") A look of scorn greets my suggestion. Obviously not.  
  
("You said so yourself, it was her fault.") Chikorita turns the tables on me almost innocently, just defying me to revoke my words. And I can't, I can't. I can't slice the confidence she's gained by these words I've spoken, however naive it must be.  
  
("Yeah, I suppose it was.") The hesitancy in my tone doesn't dishearten her a jot. She instantly seems to have regained a degree of her vibrancy, effervescence vacant until she felt someone at her side. Maybe it isn't purely childishness that imposes her choice of isolation, but also a lack of self-belief, an idea that her point of view is faulty until it is supported by someone else.  
  
("Right. But, uh...") She glances at me, nervous once again. ("I don't know if I'm ready, yet, to go back.") The timid comment, added to by a quiet sniffle, means she doesn't even have to ask. I've always had a soft spot for Chikorita, and there is no way I'm going to leave her in distress.  
  
("I'll stay with you, just as long as you want me to.") In emphasis I snuggle against her, and feel her relax. Okay, I did it the hard way, but mission accomplished. Or by taking a side have I let myself in for mission impossible? Well, no point worrying about it now, I think I'll just relax. Snuggled warmly with Chikorita, on a gorgeous afternoon, in the beguiling shade of the horse chestnut tree.  
  
  
  
"I love you too." I know that Misty is off in some dreamland and she won't hear me, but I have to say it, as if to confirm it to the world, even to declare what I have known for so long to myself. For a fleeting moment, it's as if there is nothing else, just me and the girl lain limp in my grasp. Her eyes shadowed through illness, face pale and dull, hair lank, without its usual glowing lustre. Yet to me, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed.  
  
"Ash.. ..Ash?" I ease out of my daze at the sound of a voice calling me. "Hel-lo? Is there something wrong?" My sight travels past Pikachu, who is looking over her shoulder with an expression of disgust, up to Hazel, stood in the entrance. It's at this point I realise I have tears creeping down my face, and I dash them away angrily. It's not the fact that Hazel is seeing me cry that is causing something within me to burn brightly, but the fact that for a far too brief time, I felt like I was in a perfect moment. Frozen by bliss, cast in gold. And I hear something snap. My temper.  
  
"Jesus Hazel, haven't you ever learnt to knock?!" She looks taken aback for a fraction, before her normal face drops into position.  
  
"Sheez, pardon me. After all, everyone knocks when they're coming into their own room, don't they?" She's got a point. But it doesn't make me any more reasonable.  
  
"Didn't you ever learn to respect anyone's privacy?" In front of Hazel I see Pikachu give me a definite shake of the head in warning. I ignore it.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Well think a little more in future, got it?" The passion, and frustration running through my veins is turning to boiling lava. I want to kick myself for getting stupidly worked up, but I want to kick something else first.  
  
"A fat lot of thanks for someone who was checking you were okay a few seconds back."  
  
"Well I'm fine. Thank you for asking."  
  
"I didn't come in here to get my head bitten off! If you wanted some peace to give Misty a good once-over you should've stuck a sign on the door. 'Do not enter, make-out in progress, call by later to change sheets...'" I let Misty's head fall to the pillow and spring to my feet.  
  
"Shut up." She eyes me warily, but doesn't.  
  
"You started this mess, just because I saw you crying, and interrupted a little romantic snuggling, although it looks like the evil queen has gotten so excited she's passed out." That's it. I'm face to face with her in a heartbeat. I'd never hit her, not even in this temper, I would never, never do that. But soon as I get close, her eyes have changed, like she's expecting me to. They're now wide as a startled fawn's, brimming with terror. In a flash she turns as if to run, but I instinctively grasp her thin shoulder. Gently.  
  
"Let me go, please." Her calm tone is betrayed by the leaf-like shaking of her body, and the concealed tremor still seeping through the coat of polish on her voice. But she doesn't pull away, frozen by the contact.  
  
"Hazel, listen.. ..I'm sorry, I lost my temper, but I wouldn't hurt you, ever. You do know that, don't you?" Silence. "Don't you?" A shrug.  
  
"Why should I? I hardly know you." But she still doesn't pull away.  
  
"Because I'm your friend, aren't I?"  
  
".....Maybe....." Inwardly I let out a gasp of relief that I didn't know I was holding. If she'd let her stubbornness hold out and said no.....  
  
"So can't you let me apologise properly?" Again, the nervous pause.  
  
".....I guess....." I sigh audibly, and drop my hand from her shoulder, half expecting her to run for the door. But she doesn't move, still not looking at me.  
  
"I'll put the kettle on first, want a cup of tea? Or, should I say coffee, five sugars?" Not waiting for an answer I pace over to the kettle perched on the table with the television in the corner of the room, and weigh it. Plenty of water left. I plug it into the wall socket and turn it on, before turning around again. Pikachu is still watching Hazel silently, and Hazel is still seemingly studying the inside of the door. She's not fooling me into believing she's playing it cool. Right about now she's trying to tie together a few scraps of composure so she can keep herself from breaking down. The hunched shoulders, the unsteady breathing, the nervously flexing fingers, they all give it away. Okay, cups next. In the bathroom, by the sink, after being washed. Past Hazel. Well, it'll give her a reason to get out of sight for a bit, and gather herself. "Hazel, the cups are in the sink, could you get them for me?"  
  
"Sure." She moves off to one side into the bathroom, and I hear the door bump against its frame as she shuts it. Not properly, since the frame is still broken, but the decision is still noted. I don't blame her from wanting a bit of privacy while she collects herself.  
  
("What was that about?") Pikachu mutters as I sit next to her on the bed, listening to the sound of water running through the wall of the bathroom just behind us.  
  
"I'm getting the real feeling that there is something Hazel isn't telling us. And not something superficial either." She shakes her head, indicating that wasn't what she meant.  
  
("No, I mean you. Going ballistic like that. She was only checking how you were.") How to answer? There's every reason, but at the same time there's none.  
  
"It was, it was just, I....."  
  
("Ash, come on, admit it to me, at least. You would never have been this upset if it hadn't been the fact that you had Misty in your arms..") I'm still reluctant to proclaim it, but I nod nonetheless.  
  
"I was stunned. But just when I was letting the feeling seep into me, the fact she loves me, she came in and shattered the moment." Regret seeps into my being. Lots of little incidents are queuing up for attention, from not being able to tell Misty I love her while she could still hear me, to snapping at Hazel. And a thousand things in between.  
  
("That was a little harsh.") I decide to bite back.  
  
"How would you have felt if someone had pulled you away three years ago?" I free my wallet from my pocket, and the picture from within, gesturing to it. Amidst the chaos surrounding me in the foreground, Pikachu is clearly visible and just as clearly in transports of delight. "You'd only been missing me for a couple of months. Imagine it had been years, that little special something in your life you've missed had suddenly and unexpectedly come back to you. Then, someone had thrown a wet blanket over the whole thing before you could blink." I see her falter. But the ire of the last few weeks is still burning, and I push the point. "Plus, I think I've had enough on my plate recently to be forgiven blowing off a little steam." Her black-tipped buttercup shaded ears flatten out of remorse. Guilt for starting that little incident with Chikorita earlier, plus a hundred minor offences over recent times.  
  
("I think I see what you mean.") It's as close to an apology I think I will get from her. A creaking signals the door of the bathroom opening, and Hazel emerges, eyes the tone of her name rimmed by the faintest taint of pink.  
  
"Clean cups." I won't insult her by telling her I know they were clean already, since I did them at lunch. I just take them wordlessly, and get up to see to the kettle which is just a few wisps of steam from boiling. The teaspoon I use to shovel coffee, hot chocolate and sugar into the three cups isn't clean, but I don't really mind.  
  
"So, coffee no sugar for Pikachu, Hot chocolate double strength for me, and coffee five sugars for Hazel....." Murmuring under my breath isn't necessary, but it gives me the chance to think. I need to get the line of questioning away from me, and back onto Hazel. My little complaints aren't important, but trying to figure her out is. The one lasting memory lingering in my thoughts is the way she was paralysed the moment I touched her shoulder.....  
  
("Ash, are you going to stir those to death or what?") Pikachu knocks me out of my musings, to find that I've poured out the water, added milk, and having stirred the coffees I'm currently stirring my own drink relentlessly. I mutely put the spoon down and take the drinks over to the bed, where Hazel has seated herself alongside Pikachu, a bland expression written over her features.  
  
"Drinks. Enjoy." I state just as blandly as Pikachu shifts over and I sit down between them both, the mattress sagging with the weight, forming a tired v-shape with me in the in the middle. The slope tilts Hazel towards me, and she almost becomes statue-esque as her bare shoulder brushes mine.  
  
"Thanks." She slides slightly away so she's out of contact, and takes a sip of her drink with a fluid sigh.  
  
"So, I think I have an apology to make to you......" I wait for a reaction, and seeing none, I continue. "I'm sorry, it's unlike me to lose my temper. I've been a bit pressured recently, what with Misty and....." I realise that I'm about to incriminate her, so I change tack. "Life has kinda built up. Pikachu and Chikorita had a bust up only minutes ago, and Misty is unwell, so I'm a little upset." Still she's silent, slurping at the cooling drink. "But honestly, I would never have struck you, Hazel. Never, ever." Her hands cradling the cup drop to her knees, and she stares into the depths of the brown liquid in it.  
  
"How can I be sure?" The reply I'd hoped for, she's opened herself up completely.  
  
"Why are you so determined to doubt me?" She twitches barely noticeably, but it's enough to tell me she doesn't like the question.  
  
"I told you before, enough people have screwed me over for me to not trust easily."  
  
"Like who?"  
  
"I told you when I first met you, there were lots who doubted me when I first left. They all weren't worth my trust, and I hardly know you. Why should you be different?" I feel a smile tug on my mouth, but I fight it off. Her defensive tone is asking her more questions than me.  
  
"You say that, but you've followed me for almost a fortnight, and you're here in a room with me sat beside you with no way of protecting yourself. Hazel, I know you trust me, and I know I'm worth the trust. But why don't you trust me that little bit more?" I don't tell her what it is I hope she's not saying, praying she'll tell me herself.  
  
"There's nothing really to trust you with. Sure I've got secrets.....but it's not as if they're unusual."  
  
"Okay. But do you feel like you can rely on me? Please, be honest." She's quiet, which gives me time to think again. Her silences and pauses aren't quiet really, they're like the screeching tyres of a sliding car, with the same sense of a desperate fight to regain full control. She's young, and although she's built a wall around her, she's aching to get out of her self- imposed prison. It's clear to me now that whatever it is she's locked in, it's big. And it's not going away like she maybe hoped.  
  
"I think I do, maybe with a little more time." It's like the mouse edging towards the cheese, the trap it may or may not be part of becoming less threatening as the cheese grows yet more tempting. If only I had a way to prove to her there isn't a catch.....  
  
("Do you want another cup?") Damn it Pikachu! The delicate atmosphere building up shatters, and my chance is gone.  
  
"No, I'm okay." She slides away from me and plonks the cup down on a table, going from timid to cocky in less time than it takes to go nought to sixty in a Ferrari. "'sides, I want to try on a few new outfits I picked up today." New outfits?  
  
"Where did you get them?"  
  
"Down the road. Got them fairly cheap. Fancy giving me an opinion? Oh, but not on the lingerie, so keep your mind off it." She's off into the bathroom with her bag with startling speed. I wait for the door to bump the frame, and soon as it does, I round on Pikachu. "Pillock! What did you go and bump in for?"  
  
("What? I wasn't interrupting was I? I was just daydreaming when I realised my drink was finished, and I was only wondering if you wanted some more.") My glare softens at her obvious confusion.  
  
"Well, it's okay. I'll get more chances. As long as I get her alone." Ignoring her confusion changing to puzzlement, I decide to make another drink. No point in worrying about anything now. Except, that is, Chikorita and Cyndaquil. Where on earth have they got to?  
  
I've been in this field for what seems like an eternity now. I feel like I've seen it before. Something about it is familiar. That's it, I was brought up here. From so small I could barely see above the short grass lining the burrow. The first time I saw the sky. I knew I was supposed to stay out of sight, my parents had told me something like that, but I just crept up to the light that had dazzled me for what could have been forever, just through curiosity. And saw my world was more than a dark little hole. I couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. But I still think I somehow grasped the sheer size of life, just by seeing that scene. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the intensity of the light, something beyond my dreams crept into focus. A field. Stretching out far beyond my view, with every colour I could imagine. Lurid shades, grass and flowers rippling in a gentle breeze, ocean-like. I could have drowned in it too, lost myself in delight and then found I had no idea where I was. I was poised to dash off and play with a daisy, but I looked up. Until now, my life was enclosed within a few dank inches, crowded and suffocating to me. I guess that was why I was the first to break out, and see what greeted me. And all I could do was stare at the sky. There were no words that came to my mind. Just blind joy. I couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. So much, too much for me to understand. No boundaries, no limits. Blue from horizon to horizon. And almost directly above me a shining light so bright that it hurt. And the air, the clear, dry, sweet air, tasting like honey from heaven and dancing with life. How long I stood paralysed I couldn't say. Eventually my mother returned from wherever she had gone, and scolded me for leaving sanctuary. Even then I wanted to say "That is sanctuary? So is this heaven?" but I couldn't, I was far too young to articulate the searing bitterness, regret that I would have to return to the cramped, dirty cell that imprisoned me while I knew what could be. I was even too young to understand why she said I was too young. I always resented her for that, until I left as soon as I was able to. Now, I'm backing away down the tunnel, but still staring at that light as the world grows darker, and I feel a few drips of condensation spatter on my head. Still gazing wistfully up at the light which is outlining the figure of my mother, watching me retreat, as it shrinks to a mere pinprick. As it finally passes from my sight, the figure seems to almost look human...  
  
("Chikorita, wake UP!") Cyndaquil's shout shocks me into consciousness, and I find myself looking at his concerned face from only inches away.  
  
("What?!") I roll onto my belly and get up as "what" very quickly becomes "uh-oh". I think that we might have dozed off a little. It seems that the feeling of wetness in my dream wasn't just my imagination. Neither was the increasing darkness. Since the sky is now obscured, and it seems to be late evening. And it's raining. With intent to piss down, those clouds mean business.  
  
("I think we had better get back! The storm has broken sooner than I thought!") As Cyndaquil speaks the rain seems to try and dissuade us by doubling its intensity from light drizzle to medium shower.  
  
("It's at least a mile back! Wouldn't it be better to stay here and wait it out?") I reply, gazing with intense dislike at the wetness outside. Yeugh, I hate being cold and soggy.  
  
("I don't think so!") Cyndaquil shakes his head definitely.  
  
("Why not?!") I yell back as the rain decides to up the ante and changes into steady downpour. Now gazing up at the sky I send a mental barrage of curses at the thick layer of cloud swamping it. I hate to see weather like this. The sky should be like it was on that magical morning, clear and free not choked by mist.  
  
("Do you want to stand under a massive great tree in the middle of a thunderstorm?!") Shit, he has a point. The valley isn't that wide, but this is the only tree in sight in this part of it, and it's big. Could the mountains on either side take the hits? Maybe, but it'd be a big risk to take. And to make my mind up, an avalanche of rumbling rolls in from the distance, giving a not-so-subtle hint for us to get the hell out of here.  
  
("Make for the path, it'll be quicker to use it than fight through the undergrowth the whole way back!") Cyndaquil screams over the growing din of the storm, the downpour making the final upgrade to tropical storm levels. He breaks for the long grass and I follow in his tracks blindly praying for the right direction. Crashing through the dense, wet shrub for what must be hours, until I end up sprawling on my partner, who has landed face-down in a puddle as the grasses part to reveal the path. I yank him upright, and he coughs up a pint of water before giving me a tearful look of thanks.  
  
("We'd better keep going.") He nods for a moment before coughing again, and I give him a pat on the back to try and help.  
  
("Gimmie a sec. I can't be long though, since this path'll flood pretty quick if the rain keeps up like this.") Right, I can almost see the water flowing down off the hills and into this stream, which is pretty narrow here.  
  
"Chikorita! Cyndaquil!" A voice comes through over the hissing rain, and we both spin to look down the path. A figure comes into view, charging up the path.  
  
("Ash!") I take off sprinting towards him, leaving Cyndaquil still spluttering in my wake.  
  
"Thank god I've found you. This path is usually under water after a storm like this, you could've been in trouble." He pulls a pair of Pokeballs from his dark blue coat. "Come on, it'll be quicker if you get in, you won't get soaked any more either."  
  
("Count me in.") Cyndaquil moves past me and nods, before disappearing in a pool of red light. Ash pockets his ball, and then focuses on me.  
  
"Chikorita?" He looks puzzled as I shake my head definitely. For some reason, I don't want to go in there. Really don't. "Come on, we've got to get back! You'll get soaked if you stay outside."  
  
("I'm soaked already. I don't want to go in there!") He crouches down to my level, depositing the ball into the recesses of his coat.  
  
"Why?" He asks gently. I give the universal answer.  
  
("Because.") Silence from him, then a resigned sigh.  
  
"Okay. But will you let me carry you?" I give a quick nod. Carrying I don't mind. He reaches forward, scoops me up, and takes off down the slope, splashing through puddles where the river has encroached onto its bank as if they weren't there. I'm grateful now that I let him carry me, those flooded bits would definitely have given me trouble. After a few minutes of listening to the increasingly heavy breathing from my friend, lights come into view, and I gasp with relief. A gasp that turns into a yell as Ash steps into an unseen puddle and slips, sending him tumbling to the ground and me tumbling through the air. Luckily, I land on my feet before slipping onto my side, cushioning the fall. But I've definitely got scrapes all along my ribs and back from the rough gravel of the path. I ease myself up, wincing at the stinging from my injuries, and scurry back along the path to Ash.  
  
("You hurt?") He pushes himself up, biting his lip.  
  
"No, I'm fine." Liar. He's got several nicks on his face, hands and arms are bleeding from lots of cuts, and his coat is torn in places.  
  
("Come on, let's get back, and we can clean ourselves up there.")  
  
"We?" He eyes my left side, and looks worried.  
  
("Sod me, you're worse off than I am. Come on, you don't have to carry me, we're nearly there.") I help him up with my vines, ignoring the nagging pain from my body complaining about its mistreatment.  
  
"Right, let's go." We both start jogging towards the light, careful to avoid the flood spots, and ignoring the rain teeming over us both. It's actually quite soothing on my body after that fall, although I can't wait until I can get under something a little warmer. Cyndaquil would call me a plonker for staying out in this weather when I could have got in the pokeball. But the way I shudder at the thought convinces me that despite the cold and the wetness, it was worth it.  
  
  
  
I'm starting to worry. Which is odd for me. I don't normally worry about much. But I am worried now, about several things. One, if Ash is in trouble out there on this stormy night. I tried to persuade him not to go, as much because I like his company than looking out for his safety, I'll admit. Even though he is getting a little close to the bone with me, I'm sure now he suspects something, and he's probably pretty close to right too. But with him gone, my only company is a Pikachu I can only three-quarters understand, and an unconscious Misty that I don't really get on with. Pikachu has been trying to teach me some more of her language, using a few ideas she and Ash dreamt up, and I'm delighted to find that I'm picking it up very quickly. It's not like English with loads of syllables, it's all down to subtitles in the tone and emphasis on certain parts of the words, which makes it tricky to translate into my normal tongue. As Pikachu points to a few more words from the BFG and says them slowly in her own way for me to try and grasp, a groan suggests that Misty now isn't quite as unconscious as she was.  
  
("Sees like Misty is approaching around.") Erm, well, that's what Pikachu seemed to say to me. Right, so sees, look for similarities, could be looks, and approaching, uh, getting nearer, no, maybe coming? Yeah, that's it. Looks like Misty is coming around.  
  
"Yeah, looks like it, doesn't it?" Pikachu turns her head from beside me, and gives me an appraising look. I grin slowly. "I'm getting better, no? Mind you, I am being taught by the best, aren't I?" She looks at me for a second longer before breaking out into a smile herself. I get the feeling that the last hour or so of her trying to teach me and my efforts to understand have broken the ice between us. She has been standoffish because of her loyalty to Misty, but I think that she's starting to realise that I'm okay. Thankfully.  
  
"Ohhhhh, my head." Her eyes crack open, and shut quickly as the light from a lamp hits them. Looks like her flu hasn't died down. She wouldn't believe it I think, but I feel sorry for her. Nothing is worse than being in constant pain.  
  
"Hey, how you feeling?" She re-opens her eyes to slits, and moves them to take me into focus.  
  
"Like hell." She sweeps the room with her barely open eyes. "Where is Ash?"  
  
"Gone out for a bit. Do you want anything?" I ask, quite nicely really.  
  
"Well, if you're offering, I could do with some paracetamol." She must be too tired to be cutting. Either that or some miracle of acceptance has taken place.  
  
"No problem." I head off to the bathroom, grabbing a stray cup as I go. Reaching the sink I turn the cold tap on, glancing at my reflection in the little mirror on its stand perched on the sink. I don't look too nervous, or flushed. Good. The cup now full, I pick up the paracetamol and trot back into the room.  
  
"Thanks." Misty takes the cup and pops the pills into her mouth, downing the water after it.  
  
"No problem." Now, an uneasy silence settles like soot. Pikachu is dozing off, and Misty is staring at the ceiling. I 'spose I should try making conversation. "Y'know, I picked myself up some new clothes at a store today."  
  
"Mmm-hmmm."  
  
"The old lady was nice. It seems that she doesn't get that many customers, since she seemed delighted when I bought something."  
  
"Mmm-hmmm." She seems so bloody disinterested that she might pass out from sheer boredom. Well, I may as well keep going.  
  
"This guy came in while I was there, looked about twenty. A bit on the big side, but kinda cute. He seemed to be her grandson, was away at university, she was delighted to see him back." Silence. Then, she painfully lifts her head off the pillow, eyes growing wide.  
  
"Oh.....What is the date?!"  
  
"Twenty-seventh." Her eyes almost pop out.  
  
"Shit! It's on the eleventh! I've only got two weeks!" Eh? I watch with amused puzzlement as Misty swings her feet over the side of the bed, hauls herself rapidly to her feet, blinks slowly, and then falls backwards onto the bed again. I let a little giggle slip out as I get up, and take a look at her. Passed out. Dope, getting up too fast when you've got a fever usually leads to laying down again at twice the speed, or at least a really really bad dizzy spell. Done it myself, so I should know.  
  
"You know, you probably won't appreciate me doing this for you, but what the hell." I lean over and grab her pyjama-clad body, and haul it around so she's laying normally on the bed, not with her head hanging over the side. "Now we're even for what you did for me last week." Even as a dead weight, she's kinda light. Maybe I overestimated her size before now. Although, when I step back and give her an appraising look, she does seem smaller than she was. Well, fevers do make people lose weight. And she says she's been on a diet for a little bit.  
  
("No, no salmon, please...Ugh, cold, slimy fishies...") I hope that my translation of Pikachu's sleepy murmurings was wrong. If not, she could really do with a therapist. A flash of light through the window, followed by an ominous rolling rumble tells me that the weather is about to get in on the act. I get up and go to the window, noting how much darker the sky has become, and the rain spattering on the windowpane. Getting steadily heavier by the second. Just like the lady said, even if she was a little off in the timing. A few more flashes light up the street, each accompanied by an ominous growl. Where the hell is he? He's been gone a while now. I set my gaze up the street, scanning the edge of visibility with a grimace.  
  
"Come on Ash, get moving, I don't want to have to come and find you..." In tune with my nervousness the rain just keeps on coming down harder and harder. I think I can give up on pretending to myself now, the anxious, faltering voice which gave out that plea just says it all. I trust him, maybe even love him. Love him in what way I couldn't say. But I only feel safe when he's around, and when he isn't I just count the seconds until he comes back. Trust...it's something that I've not done for a long time. Maybe never, never since my grandmother died. I've always been too scared to, since, well, since my life became what it is. Not a lot. Memories of Cerulean City wash back, this time unfought. Going over my history once again, bringing back upsetting, scary thoughts. What I hoped that, if I ran far and fast enough, I could leave behind. And at the centre of it all, the one who took advantage of me. Told me that crying was for the weak, that it was my fault that my life was where it ended up. And I accepted it. But maybe, just maybe, I was wrong to. Although questions were never appreciated either, oh, definitely not. Especially not late in the evening. And not by a nothing like me. A tool, that's all I was. A means to an end, and a vent. For anger. It's only now I realise that my sight of the street isn't only blurred by the water on the window, but also from my eyes. I reflexively swipe them away, angry with myself. But they're just replaced by more. And then the words that I believed come back to me, spoken roughly and aggressively.  
  
"What are you crying for? Are you some sort of fucking baby?! Don't give me any shit about being sorry, as yer not! But damn well you should be, since you're the one who got me here! But crying isn't gonna help you, an' you're too goddamn weak to do anything else. So weak that you cry for nothing. If I ever see you sobbing like a pre-school kid, I'll make you feel fucking sorry for real..."  
  
And I believed?! I believed those threats, spoken from a caustic mouth spiked with fumes? Enforced by unfeeling hands? I'm a fool, I have been for a long time. But I will change now, I will. As I take a deep breath a sob breaks out from my chest, and I let it escape unchecked, the sound covered by the roar of thunder. The tears usually erased soon as they arrived allowed to cascade down my face freely, a first sign of rebellion against the glass prison which has held me. A prison I could never see. Eyes almost sightless catch movement outside, amongst the flashes of lightning and hurling raindrops, and I try to focus. They pass beneath a streetlight and briefly become visible - Ash! And Chikorita too. Almost entering the lobby. Oh, I can't let them see me like this! I hurriedly rush to the bathroom, and wash my face clean, before dabbing it dry with a towel. Back into the main room, and down onto the bed by Pikachu, pick up the BFG...  
  
"We're back!" The door opens and Ash splashes in, ripping his coat off as Chikorita shakes like a dog, spattering the walls and Ash with yet more water. I don't think they could be any wetter, even by jumping in the sea fully clothed.  
  
"Geez, you looked soaked!" My voice is a little croaky, but I ignore it.  
  
"You're telling me." He rips off his shirt, unbuckles and dumps his trousers. Then I notice the blood staining his face, and his body. Cuts, bruises, and on Chikorita too.  
  
"What the hell happened to you?" He shakes his head ruefully.  
  
"An unseen puddle and a gravel path." I see. He releases Cyndaquil, who looks damp but better off. Cyndaquil turns around, and looks concerned at the state of them, as well as puzzled by Chikorita's state.  
  
"Do you want me to help you clean those up?" While I speak Chikorita nudges Ash's leg, before nodding to the bathroom. Ash nods back in understanding before speaking.  
  
"No, we'd better get in the shower first and warm up, that'll help. But you could always give me a hand afterwards." His warm smile makes my cheeks glow, I'm glad that my face was flushed already. He takes a look at Misty. "How is she?"  
  
"She woke up, and I gave her some paracetamol. I told her about what I did today, and then she went mad, saying something about only having two weeks, got up too fast and passed out again." He watches her for a few more moments with gentle concern.  
  
"The exam, I forgot about it too. Well, there's not a lot we can do right now, so I'm going to take a nice hot shower with these two." He nudges the door open, and the two pokemon go in.  
  
"Hey Ash!" I call out, as he steps through the door himself.  
  
"Yeah?" He pokes his head back around the door. I nod to his arms, and smile.  
  
"Make sure you don't slip, I don't want you getting hurt again." My cheeky wink accompanying the comment makes him chuckle, as he remembers the first morning we spent in this town.  
  
"I will, thanks for your concern." He moves out of sight, and I sigh out loud. How is it a single chuckle and a smile can have such an affect on me? I don't know. But I do know I care about him. And trust him. And that is enough for now. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to tell him about my reality someday soon...  
  
  
  
Well, that's all for now. Guess I should get back to revision ;(  
  
Dan. 


	6. Let the River Flow

Well, Chapter 6 done at last. Sorry for the long delay, I've got an exam about every 2 weeks at the moment, and none of them are easy to say the least!  
Big thanks to all you reviewers, and especially to Karen or Cultnirvana as usual, she's made this readable once again (A small miracle given my typing and spelling skills). I hope you haven't all died of old age by now......  
So, this is where things start coming out in the story (at last!). Chapter 7 is half-written, so it won't be too long in arriving :)   
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Where the River Flows - Chapter VI  
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2A.M. 23rd July - The clock just keeps on going, going on. I wonder if time has a consciousness? It seems to slow upon the the call of expectation, but makes ecstasy all to brief in length. Changes human perception to mock the fact that we believe we can understand it. But one thing that it emphasises is that it is utterly relentless. Cannot be stopped, fighting it is futile at best. It sees all, knows all. And it is laughing at me now, stretching each second to an hour, knowing that I have no choice but to wait.  
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My head is pounding. I wish it would stop. I don't suppose that my nerves are helping either. The voice of common sense whispers that maybe it's because I'm still ill, but I ignore it. Realising my mind is drifting, I attempt to wrench it back onto the matter in hand. The treatment and recuperation periods for Horseas after chronic illness.   
  
"You really should give it a while, Misty. Trying to learn anything while you're unwell isn't going to help." My reply to Ash's worried voice it to turn a page. And find my mental guesstimate of the answer was miles off. This is going really well.  
  
"I'd listen to him. You look like you're gonna pass out." Hazel adds, looking up from where she's playing cards (and getting sharked by Cyndaquil).  
  
"I'm fine." Although I'll admit to myself my mind is beginning to wander just a little. "Although..…" A huge yawn halts my speech for a second. "…..I could really do with a drink."   
  
"Coffee?" Ash asks, sliding off his bed and to his feet, rubbing idly at the scratches on his arm that he picked up two days ago through his deep purple pyjamas.  
  
"Yeah, no sugar." I don't really like coffee without sugar, but I don't feel like sweetness right now. Giving in to my brain's silent pleading for me to stop, I rest the book down on my chest and look around the room. Cyndaquil is laying down a royal flush, Hazel looking pissed as she throws in her hand of cards. Chikorita is watching with idle interest, having already lost her money. Pikachu is half-asleep on the other bed next to the window, the one I slept in on the first night, Ash's patient hands having massaged her into a daze. Pretty much the sort of scene we've made for a lot of the time since we got here. We won't be here for much longer, I've got to be back down in Cerulean City in a little more than two weeks. Just as this place was beginning to grow on me too. The lady in the café knows us all on sight now, we're approaching the level of regulars.   
  
"Usual for the rest of you?" A chorus of yes's (and one sleepy "Pika") greet the question. I think that Ash is the centre of gossip in this town too. Not only is he famous, but he arrives with a girl on each shoulder and yesterday, well, I don't think I've stopped laughing yet. We'd been putting all the dirty washing that we'd created since we did the last load in a bag. He was the one that took it down, and asked nurse Joy if he could use the washing machine to clean "his clothes." She agreed, of course. And it turned out the bag was more than half full of underwear. Mostly mine and Hazels. He grabbed an item and was about to throw it into the washing machine when he realised exactly what he was holding. Pink panties. With frills. Nurse Joy did too. I heard her laughter from up here. Ash returned to the room looking pinker than the aforesaid lingerie, where he was coaxed into explaining why Joy was in hysterics. Even feeling as awful as I did yesterday I almost choked with mirth. A knocking on the door drags me out of my thoughts as Ash goes to answer it. I crawl to the end of my bed so I can see down the passage as he answers the door. It's nurse Joy, holding a bag in one hand and a dark smile on her face. The sort that makes me gesture to the others to come and watch the show.  
  
"Ash, these are all dry now. Except your skirt-" I giggle at the way she emphasises *your* "- that'll take a little longer." She hands my blue shimmery summer skirt to Ash, who takes it bashfully. It sort of is his, since he bought it for me, but I don't think he thought this would happen. " Oh, and I reckon you'd look really cute in your black lacy number, it'd go with your hair." She gives a coquettish wink, picking my fanciest underwear out of the bag and handing it to him with a grin the size of the San Andreas fault. "But you could always try it on for me if you want to try and prove me wrong….." That's it, my silence cracks and I burst into great peals of laughter at the exact same moment as everyone else.  
  
"Agh, it's not that funny." He pops the bag down, dropping the skirt on top of it. "Fancy coming in for a cup of something Joy? The kettle's on."   
  
"Sure, thanks Ash. I've got a bleeper if the door opens and Chansey has PMT so she won't take any messing around at this time of the month." Heh, I suppose even Chanseys aren't happy all the time. Joy sweeps into the room, and picks a seat by the window and my bed. We've all become good friends with her, if there is one person you could trust with a secret it's her. I know for a fact that Hazel was bending her ear for a good hour or so yesterday. I know for a fact that she was on about me as well, but I've done the same so I'm not going to get all high and mighty.  
  
"Quiet day?" I ask idly, flicking some fringe out of my eyes.  
  
"Yeah. Usually is at this time of the year. People go on holiday for most of the summer, soon as the kids are out of school. Don't blame them, this place is duller than a wet Welsh Wednesday." That's fair to say. Joy likes our company all the more because it's just about the only company she has. We've become quite close friends in the short time we've been here.  
  
"What's your poison?" Ash does well to hide the fact that he's just been embarrassed horribly in front of three women with a skirt and my nicest G-string. Speaking of which.....  
  
"Tea, please." Out from somewhere comes another mug, this one with Blisseys all over (it's obvious that he's used to having the occasional nurse Joy in to visit, he even has a cup ready for the occasion.) and a tea-bag is in it in a flash. As Ash crouches down to get the milk out I notice something sticking out of this pocket. Now I'm interested.  
  
"Okay, milk? Sugar?" Joy shakes her head.  
  
"Nah, just plain." He pours out the water and hands her the mug. She smiles lightly at the design on it, before going over to sit on the bed by the window, next to Pikachu. Then Ash goes over to give Hazel, Cyndaquil and Chikorita their drinks. Chikorita takes a long slug.  
  
("Ow! Hothothot!!!") And ends up in the sink, mouth under the cold tap. Some people never learn. Finally, Ash picks up my cup, and moves to hand it to me.   
  
"Thanks." I take a cautious sip, and give him a smile. His face almost seems to light up in response. He's been acting different the last thirty-six hours. Like he knows something I don't, but at the same time, doesn't really believe it yet. No, I didn't, did I? I thought that my words were just a dream, they were, weren't they?! I'm sure that they were. But if they weren't..…  
  
"Misty, you okay?" I shake from my daydream to see Ash's face barely inches from mine, eyes just glistening with compassion. I'm so confused. If I had said something, and he knew, he'd be sure to tell me. He wouldn't be stood there with puppy-dog eyes almost begging me.   
  
"Uh, yeah, just a little woozy." Crap excuse in a voice just begging for reassurance, and this time he doesn't take it at face value.  
  
"You look flushed." He reaches out and touches my cheek, tender as a mother to a child. Soon as his skin brushes mine I seem to float away, just for the briefest, most fleeting moment. In another world. Pure sensation and emotion, a bliss so intense it's choking. All to swiftly it's torn away, and replaced by reality. And fear. Fear of risk, and of love itself.....  
  
"You look like you're going to steal my most expensive underwear." My blind flailing for distraction works, and the silent attention of the room previously focused on me now switches to Ash. I notice, to the tune of the shards of my heart as they shatter on the ground, that he looks devastated. Ever so briefly, but for a lifetime to me. Damn my cowardice.   
  
"Uh, sorry." Ash draws the black lacy garment from his pocket, and for everyone the tension seems to snap.   
  
"So they were yours! I'm sure they suit you down to the ground!" Joy chortles, and Ash blushes hotly, looking at the floor.   
  
"As it happens, they do." Mumbled words, but not mumbled enough to escape my hearing. It's only now the words scrawl themselves across my consciousness. Leaving me slack-jawed. He hasn't, has he? He has, hasn't he? And I'm not really sure how to react. And it's now that it is clear I'm not the only one to hear his concealed words. And this is because Pikachu is pissing herself laughing. Ash forgot how sensitive her hearing could be. And now Pikachu is repeating what he said amidst peals of laughter. And even Hazel understands. And Ash is looking ashamed. And I feel like a total shit. If I wasn't such a chicken.....  
  
("Oh my.") Is Cyndaquil's response. Now almost the whole room is rocking with laughter, except for me, Ash, and, to my surprise.....  
  
("Pikachu, you bitch!") Chikorita hurls herself past me and faces down Pikachu, who abruptly stops laughing.  
  
("Uh?") Pikachu looks worried. Not surprising, considering the history of this confrontation.  
  
("Whatcha go and do that for? It's none of our business, why should it be?") She's inching closer, an undeniable snarl of hostility in her voice.  
  
("I was only having a laugh.....") To my horror one of Chikorita's dark green vines lances out and strikes Pikachu across the face. Any laughter dies suddenly as a fly hitting a windscreen.  
  
("Laugh?! Look what your little laugh is doing to him!") All eyes flit to where Ash was. There's now just an empty space. From the bathroom, I faintly hear an indistinct noise, and then a tap flowing. Like poison blossoming through the body to spin a web of fatal constriction, despair sweeps all aside within me. I'm a total jerk. Why did I even bring him down in the first place?! Because I'm a waste of space, too busy trying to save my own skin to care about his. Then a card floats mockingly into my eyes - the joker, weaving its sly spells on us. It's only now that Pikachu returns from the shock of being slapped, and out of the corner of my eye I see her glowering at Chikorita, raising one dandelion paw to her face.  
  
("That hurt, you little bitch. I'm going to make you pay for that.") She hisses between bared teeth, cheeks glistening with unspent lightning in emphasis. Chikorita, who has just stared at the Ashless space with wide eyes, turns back. Her red eyes now ablaze.  
  
("Fat chance. If you care about making fun of him more than you care about his feelings, I'm going to beat you to an inch of your life until you beg, beg out loud for his forgiveness.") Ignoring Pikachu's stunned expression, she reaches out with one of her vines and swipes an ankle, pulling her right off her feet and spinning into a bed.  
  
("Cut it out!") Cyndaquil dives between them as Pikachu leaps back up, poised to strike. ("Stop fighting, goddamn it! What good is that going to do?")   
  
("Soon as she realises that she can't shoot her mouth off and get away with it!") Chikorita levels a foreleg towards Pikachu, spitting bullets. ("You do it all the time, and not just to me either!")  
  
("So you're just using Ash to get at me, are you?!") Pikachu cracks a bitter, acrid laugh. ("So all that crap about me upsetting him was a front to get at me! Well I've got news for you, I can see right through that.") A knife seems to plunge through my ribcage as their words work through. Ash wouldn't have been worked up about something as silly as this, no way. I did it, didn't I? Soon as I blew him off, cut him down. My fault. Mine. But this is now escalating beyond something little and insignificant.....  
  
("Like hell!") Chikorita looks crumpled. She's always been easy to upset. In fact, it was because she was blinded by emotion that a catastrophe nearly took place, three years back. You can only push her so far, and she'll snap like a dry twig. Beyond that, no one knows. Trying to put a brave face on, she almost draws the tears seeping into her crimson eyes away again. ("Why do you have to be so malicious? You take every chance you can to put me down, but can't resist taking a bite at Ash, eavesdropping on everything anyone says and using it against them.....") She takes a deep gasping breath, looking down and biting her lip. All eyes turn to Pikachu. She looks utterly dumbstruck, just for a flash-frame. Then the fire hits her eyes again, and now it's burning so bright that Cyndaquil lights his own flames in silent warning.  
  
("You arrogant little whore.") My despair grows deeper with every snarled tone Pikachu makes. This is down to me. I should end this myself. But my mouth is dry and paralysed with fear, throat gripped tightly by the fingers of shame. ("You stand there so cocky and self-centred and say those things, without even considering that you're so possessive that you do the same things, twice as bad every day. And I'm sick of you simpering and whimpering like a spoilt baby because there are other people on the earth. And you know what.....") Pikachu's normally subtle voice is about to reach a thunderous crescendo, when Chikorita makes a tiny noise of her own, but a noise which stops everyone in their tracks. A choked sob. It's a barely audible whisper, but like a trigger clicking. Cyndaquil turns to her, concern spread over his face.   
  
("Chikorita?") No reply. Her eyes slide to the floor, shedding tears, spattering carelessly on the carpet. She almost seems to shrink, all spirit and will evaporating. Entirely submissive.  
  
"Uhm, what's wrong with her?" Hazel, who is now laying beside me to watch the confrontation, sounds baffled. Of course, she's never seen Pikachu and Chikorita going at it, and she's never seen the aftermath either.  
  
("Please, just leave me alone, please…..") Chikorita turns away from Pikachu, dejectedly shuffling around the bed and towards the passage. Soundless, like a machine. She reaches the door Ash has disappeared through, nudges it open and slithers through the gap, shutting it behind her. Then, nothing. No words, no comments, nothing. Until Joy sets her now empty cup down on a table with a definite clink.  
  
"Misty, was that normal?" Normal? Did that look like a normal reaction to anyone? Anyone? Go on, put your hands up audience, if you think that was something perfectly average and understandable, put them up. And keep them up there, so the people with the white coats will know to come around and pick you up after the show. They'll give you a nice jacket and all, a little difficult to get off admittedly, but they do have really fashionable buckles and are a snug, maybe even tight fit. I sigh, rolling my eyes before answering.  
  
"No, I think it's fairly obvious it's not." Pikachu, I notice, hasn't moved a muscle since Chikorita gave out that one hiccup. I think she might be feeling as bad as I am right now. "Chikorita, she's unusual. She always seems rough and ready, and is quick to face up to any confrontation. But when something gets to her, it's a different matter." A bit like someone else I know quite well. Me. I resist the need to choke on my words as I say them, although it gets harder with each passing breath. "If it's someone close to her, or it bites to the bone, she seems to lose it. Deflates like a punctured balloon. Then goes and hides away for god knows how long. But the resentments fester, and grow, and when she gets her will back, watch out." There is a collective intake of breath from Joy and Hazel, who seem enthralled by the drama.   
  
("Chikorita!") Pikachu snaps from her daze, and dashes headlong towards the bathroom, entering and shutting the door behind her. Instinctively, we all listen out for any noise from the room, but none seems to come out other than the noise of water running. I think that is what I should be doing, going and sorting things now. I prop my arms beneath me to push off the bed.  
  
"So what's all this about something happening three years ago? I've heard bits and pieces, and also Ash say something about it when I was in there the other day." Hazel nods towards the partition which is enclosing three of our group. "Does it have anything to do with Pikachu and Chikorita?" Damn it Hazel, talk about breaking the moment.   
  
"So this isn't the first time that those two have tangled then?" Joy leans forward, interested. Nosy would be a better word, I think. Should I tell her to mind her own business? I sense Cyndaquil nodding to me to continue. I glance down to him and see the message straight away, loud and clear - this isn't the time to go chasing after Ash. And better killing time in talk than in silence.  
  
"No." He jumps up to my right, brushing against the pink sleeve of my pyjamas as he settles down.  
  
("I'll fill in anything I know you've missed.") Hazel just about understands, and frowns at him from my other side.  
  
"What if I can't work out what you're saying?" I smile at her with mock sweetness.  
  
"Then I'll try and use simpler words. Okay?" Her frown powers up to a glare as it shifts to me. If I wasn't feeling so guilty, I would be laughing like hell.  
  
"Just get on with it." I let the snarl pass over me, working out where to start.  
  
"Well, it started pretty soon after Chikorita joined us....."  
.  
.  
.  
.  
I nudge the door shut behind me, and lean against it with a deep breath. Glad I'm out of that room. Now I've got a bit of peace, away from the teasing. Nothing to worry about, right? Right? Wrong. Why the hell am I lying to myself? I run my hands through my charcoal hair, loss settling heavy as a bowling ball into my stomach. Was she lying? Was she too sleepy to realise what she was saying? Was it meant to be a thank-you? How the hell can I know. All I do know is that I'm confused again. I stumble away from the door, and to the bath, setting the hot tap running to splash my face with. I don't hold much hope that it'll clear my head. "I love you" keeps echoing through my ears, the very water itself seeming to remind me of a certain someone. But I can't know now if that was spoken from honesty or delirium. Misty sure hasn't made a move either way. I keep on waiting for her to do something, anything, deny, accept, recall, regret. But I have too much to lose to take a chance. Her. To me, we're like a couple already, in everything but the physical part of the relationship. And boy, do I long for that. Yet I'm still unsure if she sees us the same way. I can't put everything at risk, not yet. It's like our relationship is in the balance. A pair of brass scales swims into my 'imagination. On one side, beautiful pearls, the promises and delights of those long starry nights, the catching of her gaze before she breaks from her daze. On the other, hot coals, smouldering and angry, when she cut me down and made me the clown, blown me off with a measly scoff. Yet it seems the two sides balance perfectly. I thought that her words would make all the difference. But too briefly, far too briefly. The hope, delicate as a butterfly that I treasure in my hands, left on a whim just as the butterfly spreads it's wings to float away on a passing zephyr. Should I have closed my hands on it while it sat placid in my palm, or would I have crushed it from carelessness? Of all the things I must not do, to destroy the frail beauty out of stupidity is the greatest. But every time I see the flitting figure fade from focus, the first thing I do is put my hands together, but in prayer that it may fall into my grasp again.....  
  
"Ah, this is useless!" I mutter hollowly, screwing a few strands of hair into a knot. I can feel bile rising into my chest again, so I concentrate on the bath. May as well make use of it, it's half full since someone put the plug back in. I slosh the water about to mix the cooler stuff with the hot, and strip off my purple top. And the door creaks. I spin around as it shuts again, only to see Chikorita sit down forlornly just inside, gazing at the peach tiles. It is barely a second before the tears start falling. Drip, drip, drip.....each one collecting into a tiny puddle which forms in front of her. Hurriedly I crouch down to her level, reaching out to touch her face. As my finger brushes her, she finally looks up.   
  
("I'm sorry, I shouldn't be in here.....") Soon as she says it, whatever has been holding her together breaks, and she slumps forward, overflowing with tears. I gently pick her up, taking a seat on the edge of the bath, and rock her slowly.  
  
"What's wrong babe?" She snuggles deeper into my grasp in response to my whispering, crying still harder. I just keep on holding her, whispering comforting sounds, the words of which mean nothing while they themselves mean everything.   
  
("Pikachu, horrible.....*sniff*..... she told me I was a whore *sniff* she said so many things, I can't take it, I just can't.....") Her anguished, querulous voice breaks off as a fresh flurry of sobs bubble up, and she buries her face into my bare chest again. I sigh gently as I cradle her. She's so over-sensitive, but she can't help it either. And Pikachu too, but this is not the first time, and I doubt it will be the last. I can feel the stresses of recent times swelling up. Confusion over Misty's intentions, having to referee between her and Hazel, worries over Hazel's past and what to do about it, and being fought over by my two most passionate Pokemon like an object. And the whole time trying to stay neutral and calm, it's wearing me down now. I don't know how long I can keep going in a situation like this. It reminds me of the words of an old song:  
  
"'There must be some way out of here'  
Said the joker to the thief.  
'There is way too much confusion here,  
I can't get no relief.....'"  
  
"I'm going to relax in the bath, and I think you could do with it too." Chikorita just nods, and I set her down on the end of the bath as I finish undressing. Putting the pile of clothes to one side I turn off the water stream, and Chikorita slides down the slope into the water with a gentle plop, re-surfacing quickly. I step in myself and sit down, splashing my face. Half way between lukewarm and hot, just about right for me. Chikorita floats over and perches on my knee as I grab the shampoo, before working it into the fur along her back. Some people think it's odd that I do things like share a bath with my Pokemon, but I don't. Personally, the things that some people think make me want them to wash their minds out with soap. Soon as I'm done with her back, Chikorita dives back into the water again, rinsing the lather. She seems to have cheered up, and working the shampoo in is very relaxing for me too. The stresses seem to die down again, thankfully. It's a bit like a mental massage, it doesn't get rid of the aches and pains for good, but makes them go away for a while at least.   
  
("Chikorita!") The door flicks open once again, and Pikachu speeds through it, kicking it shut with a hindleg before hopping up onto the end of the bath. Instantly I sense the tension as Chikorita swims back over to me before turning to face Pikachu.  
  
("Go away.") Pikachu looks a little irritated at Chikorita's harsh tone, but pushes ahead anyway.  
  
("I came in here to say, uh, to say I'm.....") She trails off, unable to meet the cold stare she's receiving.   
  
("I said go away. I don't want to hear anything that comes out of your mouth. Please.") Already, Chikorita's deadpan voice is wavering at the edges, still very upset from the earlier altercation.  
  
("Okay, to say I'm sorry! Happy now? Sheez, it's not like you're so blameless yourself.") Pikachu snaps, annoyed by the non-committal reception.  
  
("Fine. But please go away, leave me alone, please.....") She turns away from her adversary, biting her lip. Pikachu almost gapes at her turned back.   
  
("Why are you hiding? It's not like I was that bad. I don't get you sometimes, I really don't at all.") Her voice is slowly and ominously rising again. As much as Chikorita is fiery, Pikachu is persistent. And can be just as explosive, only she doesn't get upset so quickly.  
  
("I don't want questions, I just want some space and time.") And no more is said. Pikachu just shakes her head sadly at Chikorita's stiff back for a moment, before hopping down and resignedly leaving.   
  
"Chikorita." She still stares blankly at the wall, as if meditating. "Come on, you've got to tell me why you're so prone to going off like this, why you snap when you're being hurt by words." She's still in her protective coma, until, like a statue awakening from its petrification, she speaks.  
  
("I won't say.") And she means it. I give up for now, I just don't have the emotional strength to deal with it.  
  
"So where were we?" The question catches her off guard. Not expecting me to let her off so easy.....  
  
("Uh, you were soaping my back.") Fine. Anything to get away from all these stresses. She hops back in the water again to moisten her fur and skin, mint colour darkening to grass on contact. After a short period of paddling, she climbs back onto my leg and I rub in a fresh lather. She does the same for me with her vines as I squirt some of my own stuff onto my head. I can't help questioning, am I letting things settle or letting them brew? Will worries dissipate or accumulate? Screw them. I don't want them to bother me for a while, and I'll take the risk.  
  
"How are your scratches?"   
  
("Healing up alright.") And that's all. We just assist each other in silence, not seeing the need to speak. I've had enough noise, so let there be peace, at least until I get out of this room.  
.  
.  
.  
"Right Chansey, put the boy's Pokemon in the rejuvenator for now, I'll let him calm down before I give him a chewing out over their condition." My Chansey nods and makes her usual happy noises while working, taking two red and white balls on a tray into the treatment room. It's way too common for trainers to drag themselves in here begging for assistance after running into Ursaring or something similarly strong away up here before they're ready for the tough environment and strong wild animals. I suppose that ignorance is an excuse, but it shouldn't be. Boys and Girls so young, no more than eleven some of them, after the weeks of exposure and exhaustion that living in the wild can bring, barely coming out alive. Why are they even out here? At that age I was in school, and sitting by a cosy fire in the evenings with my family. I know for some it is pure ambition, and I kinda respect that. Usually they are the ones who arrive here in a right state, but exude that desire to get back out there and find out what they've done wrong, and try try again. Ash himself has become famous among the family for being one of these people, he's been knocked down more times than a journeyman boxer, and has always hauled himself back up. But some others - like that boy out there, who is staring at the floor tiles - I don't know why they're here. I guess that he's asking himself that right now too, and if he has to think for more than a second, he should pack up and go home. Going out half-baked is a dangerous thing to do, and can put a trainer and his Pokemon partner at risk. But to do it without masses of will and determination can be deadly. It may be for their parents, it may be because they don't know what to do with life, it may be a way of escape, but if the heart isn't in it, it may be the biggest mistake a person ever makes.  
  
"Nurse Joy?" I hide my irritation at being called by my surname (I always wanted to be called by my first name, since I'd seem like just another Nurse Joy, not as a real person) and look up from the paperwork to see the boy leaning on the desk, gazing imploringly at me.  
  
"Yes?" He looks down for a moment before rejoining my gaze.  
  
"Will my Pokemon be okay?"   
  
"They will be fine." My tone seems sharp after his shy muttering. I think it's time I gave him a telling off. But to my shock he beats me to it.  
  
"I shouldn't have brought them out here before we were ready. I was stupid. I shouldn't have come out here....." For a minute I think he's going to burst into tears. But his shoulders square themselves, and he takes a long breath. "But I won't make that mistake again. So long as they're going to be okay, I'll start again, and do it right." The boy, no, the young man spins around, and re-takes his seat, looking focused. Maybe I was wrong about him. I really hope so. Well, back to the reports.   
  
"Joy?" More disturbances, sheez, will I ever get any peace? I glance up again, trying to plaster a false smile on my face. When I see who it is the smile isn't false any more, it's one of my favourite clients, Hazel.  
  
"Hiya, what can I do for you?" I glance at the bag she is carrying. "Another pile of washing? You only did a shedload yesterday." Hazel shakes her head, a half-smile on her face at my guess. She has bought enough clothes from the local shops, and all of it has been into the laundry room at some time.   
  
"Nah, just waiting down here for my friends. Oh, and Misty." I grin back at her. On a couple of occasions when it's quiet I've ended up in the staff room with Hazel and a hot drink. Just for something to do, there's not much you can do in this place. She told me that she isn't comfortable hanging around a room with Misty. Then she went off into a long bitch about her, but that's to be expected from a girl that age. Especially when you're wild about someone that the person in question is also wild about. I'm still not sure about how Hazel thinks. She goes on and on, but never below the surface. So, I can't tell if she sees Ash as a father, brother or something else.   
  
"Well, want to take a seat?" I gesture to the one next to the desk.  
  
"Why not?" He nods, pulling her backpack off and peering over at what I'm writing. I hurriedly cover it up.  
  
"Now Hazel, you know that patient information is confidential." She wrinkles her nose at the rebuke, and goes to sit a nearby chair.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know." I don't tell her that this isn't anything to do with patients. To be honest, these are more like her records than any patient of mine. I'm just doing my little hobby, which is writing. I know it's a little cheeky, but the book is pretty much about this group of six, three people and three Pokemon. They're the most interesting thing to happen to this place for a long time, and since I've spent all but ten of my weeks here every year for the last three years it's captured my imagination. Just picture it, the boy, uncertain of his love's feelings for him and caught between the rest of his companions. One girl, madly in love with him but unable to say it, and every day her face seems to pale yet more. Another girl, filled with hate for the first and harbouring unknown feelings for the boy, her heart shrouded in mist. One male Pokemon, again caught between his friends, and fearful for them all. Two females, both determined and persistent in their pursuit for the favour of their trainer, but one with a great weakness, a weakness which nearly lead to tragedy in their past. I sigh involuntarily, eyes scanning blindly over the page beneath my pen. The way that this story is going, every lonely housewife on the continent'll buy it before it can reach the shelf.   
  
"Hope I'm not disturbing anything." I drop the pen and stick my arms over the paper, head shooting up. Misty looks down at me with slight concern, since I've reacted like I've just been stung in the backside.  
  
"No no, not at all." I paint my usual nurse exterior back on within a second, the built-in reactions taking over. No fooling Misty, the big brush which works in a flash to paint on the usual work face is enough with most people, but the fine brush takes a lot more time to cover the little details. She's a smart girl, I've no doubt that she's seen through me.  
  
"What are you doing?" She asks inquisitively.  
  
"Nothing." I glance over to Hazel, as if to say 'not in front of her'. Misty picks it up, and turns to look at Hazel herself, who isn't even pretending not to listen. They lock sight for a moment, and then with a sort of non-verbal 'humph' they both look away, noses in the air. God, what I've written between them in my story is not a patch on these two in reality.  
  
"So, what is it?" Misty asks in a much lower tone. Well, no way of getting out of it. Embarrassment envelops my speech as I speak, turning my face down to lose her eye contact  
  
"It's, ah, a book I'm writing, I do it to pass the time."   
  
"Really?" She cranes further over, Aqua eyes trying to see through the arms obscuring my writing.  
  
"Uh, it's sort of a work in progress." I'm nervous enough when someone is reading anything I've written, but I haven't even changed the names of the characters yet. If Misty sees her name written down, or anyone else's for that matter.....  
  
"Oh, okay." I'm saved as a figure lands in the Lobby with a thump, at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the rooms.   
  
("You git, Pikachu!") Cyndaquil picks himself up, and shakes off the fall.  
  
("Sorry, too tempting.") Pikachu's voice, tinted by humour appears, barely before she does. She stops and looks Cyndaquil over. ("Okay?")  
  
("Okay.") He scratches the side of his head briefly, before calling back up the stairway. ("Hey Ash, you coming?") An indistinct reply comes back, but it must be positive as the two of them wander over to say hello. It's tricky trying to place Cyndaquil in this whole mess, since he's not really on anyone's side. Maybe Chikorita's, but he still stays on the fence. But I get the feeling that, of all the relationships going on in this bunch, the most important is maybe the one which isn't noticed at all. I'm going to have to make sure that I include that too, even if how it works is going to be a guess.  
  
("Hey, Misty, I've got the key. Ash'll be right down.") Even Pikachu mentioning the name Ash is enough to stun Misty for a split-second. I still remember that point vividly a few days ago when Misty put Ash down, Ash looked crestfallen, and Misty kept on losing the plot when she was telling us the tale of Chikorita and Pikachu afterwards. Ever since it's like they're walking on tightropes. That are six hundred feet up, in a force ten gale, with pidgeys perched along it.  
  
"Right." Pikachu gives Misty the key, and then goes back to chatting with Cyndaquil.  
  
"Going anywhere special?" Misty jumps, having been floating in her own world for a few seconds.   
  
"Oh, eh, yeah. Cerulean City."   
  
"Ah, the exam."  
  
"Yep, I'm already nervous as hell." She hands me the key with a rueful smile. "I'm sure you can't wait to get rid of us." I fail dismally to hide my disappointment as I take it off her. She's become my best friend, we've become really close really quickly.  
  
"Life won't be the same. Don't forget the name Suzanne Joy though, will you?" An edge of sadness is glaring in my voice, but I'm glad to see her smile back at me.   
  
"No chance Suzanne, It's been a pleasure." It's a pleasure to have someone know me by my Christian name as well, not just as "Nurse Joy". It's also a pleasure to have become a friend of someone like Misty Williams. Dropping the usual professional front I get up and give her a hug, one she returns.   
  
"Stay in touch, I'll probably get out of this little hole of a village sometime soon, so just ask one of my relatives for Suzanne, right?" I murmur into her ear wistfully, hoping like hell that she will.   
  
"Right, I'll chase you down, you can be sure of that." I just hold onto her for a little longer, gathering the courage to say what I want to say. I know that normally I'd hold my sworn secrecy like a sacred chain, but this time I think it's worth it being broken.  
  
"And don't forget, you'll only feel regret if you never ask." I draw away from her, and take a step back.   
  
"Promise me?" She nods mutely, trying to figure out what I mean. Well, I've talked to all of the group many times, people and Pokemon, and Ash of all of them was the most open. He told me about his adventures, and also told me how he was being torn asunder by everyone pulling him in every direction (barring Cyndaquil). He swore me to secrecy about only one thing - that he is absolutely head-over-heels crazy for Misty. I couldn't betray his trust. But I couldn't let this slip away either.   
  
"So, everyone ready?" Speak of the devil. Ash appears in the lobby, chorus of affirmatives greeting his query.  
  
"Leaving so soon?" I call to him, and he shoots me a grin.  
  
"Looks like it." He replies lightly, strolling over to me.   
  
"It's my fault, I'm the one who has to be in Cerulean." Misty mutters in mock-misery.  
  
"Well it's you're fault we're out here in the first place, so don't worry about it." Ash answers lightly, before returning his attention to me. "I guess its bye for now, Suzanne."  
  
"Yeah. I'll miss you guys, life won't be the same." I can feel my eyes get oh-so-slightly tearful, but still keep a smile on my face as all six of my friends bid me goodbye in their own ways before filtering out of the doors. But this is a genuine smile, since I know that I'll see them again, I'll make sure of it.  
  
"Was that the Indigo Champion?" The boy who arrived earlier approaches me, looking curious. "Was that Ash Ketchum?" I nod, still gazing out of the open door through which my excitement has just left.   
  
"Yeah, it was." He looks over to the doorway for a second, then back up at me.   
  
"Is he your friend?" I still stare into the distance.  
  
"Yes, he is." My voice is distant, distant as my thoughts.  
  
"Wow." He looks out of the door, then back up at me again. "Why did he call you Suzanne?" My mind is still skating among the clouds, imagination running unbound.  
  
"Because it's my name. Suzanne Joy." He repeats his glance to the doorway, but this time looks down afterwards, not up at me.  
  
"My mum's name is Suzanne. Nurse Joy, uh, do you mind if I call you Suzanne too? I'm not a Pokemon champion like Ash, but I will be someday....." That wakes me from my stupor like smelling salts, and I turn my view down to him, to see him looking hopeful.  
  
"Sure, it's not professional, but I'll make an exception for you!" He grins broadly up at me, and I feel myself smiling back.   
  
"Thanks." He looks shy for again, continuing in a murmur. "You kinda remind me of her, and I really miss her, more than I thought I ever would....." He looks just about ready to burst into tears, so I grasp him gently by the shoulder.  
  
"Want to come in the back room for a cup of tea and a chat? We've got ages yet." His depression lifts like fog clearing beneath blazing summer sun, and his hopeful look returns.  
  
"Don't you mind?" I shake my head, laughing lightly.  
  
"Again, I'll make an exception. Now come on, the kettle should be boiling now." I lead him to the back room, feeling lifted. Maybe I have lost Misty and co. from my life for now, but every day is a new one, who knows who may follow the river here?  
.  
.  
.  
We're like two amidst a shipwreck. Clinging onto each other in the waters of anger, so cold that it burns. Thrown about in the tempest, rising and sinking with the waves of emotion, all the time trying to use one another to stay afloat. Yet we both inexorably tire, and sure as the kiss of death will greet all who live, we will one day slide beneath the surface.....  
  
"You awake?" The voice of my partner in the tempest creeps through the night's curtain, brittle and empty as a fine champagne flute. I just contemplate the smouldering ashes which preserve the memory of the blaze which lived in front of me but hours ago for a timeless moment before answering.  
  
("Yes.") There is a rustling, like someone grasping night's curtain, and it is drawn aside to reveal Ash as he moves to the edge of the smouldering debris, opposite me.  
  
"Couldn't sleep?" It's a hollow question, we both know that neither of us can sleep. I shake my head in response as he settles down, not into a sitting form, but a tired slouch.   
  
("Ironic really, the time of life when you need the most sleep you can achieve, it's as elusive as the peace you yearn for.") I stare wistfully into the sky, scouring its canvas for the painting of the moon gracing it. ("Perhaps that's why we can't sleep, because peace is the world asleep.")   
  
"It is. Perhaps I can sleep during the day and come alive with the stars. But night has all too short a lease of life in the summer." He gazes skywards along with me. "It's normally lighter, but it's a new moon tonight." A new moon.  
  
("The moon is lucky, reborn every month. It never need worry for the future or the past, since it is cleansed by the passing of the weeks.") Ash sighs deeply, laying on his back to scan the sky.  
  
"Like life, it grows stronger and fuller with each passing day until it becomes whole. Then, it slowly dies, fades and wastes, until it is reborn. It's like life, really." His hushed voice, reflective in tone, grows yet quieter. "I wonder if I am still growing, flourishing day by day, or if I am already beginning to wane and die."   
  
("I feel like I am beginning to thin and decline, but through the pressure of others.") My thoughts flicker back through the days past, an endless stream of arguments and pain. We left civilisation and civilisation left us. All semblance of pretence between Hazel and Misty, between Chikorita and Pikachu flowing away like the water in the river we are following to the Cerulean Sea.  
  
"I can't believe that Misty and Hazel manage to bicker for their entire waking lives. I don't get it at all. I mean, we're always together as a group, and tempers are bound to be frayed, but it's just too much. Way too much." Ash's quiet voice takes a turn towards worry. "Yet they both worry me so much. Just why does Hazel lie so much? And why does she steal?" I must have made a noise at that remark, because he gives my unasked question the answer. "Yes, she's stolen money from my bag. Back in that cafe when we first arrived, she showed me a picture in her wallet. There was nothing else in the wallet. No cash, no cards, no nothing. But she's been buying things left, right and centre. All the same, the amount she's taken from us is not enough to pay for everything she got....." This is really worrying. I don't know if I can trust her, knowing she's been stealing from us all this time.  
  
("So what are we going to do about it?") We both know the answer already. Confront her, ask her why. If she can answer, we'll hear her out. If not, well, I just hope she can.  
  
"Speaking of Hazel, she isn't here. She must be having a walk, I saw her go about ten minutes back."  
  
("Why did we end up in the company of a lit fuse?") It's an empty question, and I don't expect an answer. I just slip back into the velvet of silence, caressing my mind and body with its exquisite touch. A new thought floats to mind, a bubble surfacing from the sea of thought. ("It's almost as bad with Pikachu and Chikorita. I can see something going off, and soon. Pikachu hates being ignored, so Chikorita is really brassing her off. If she starts something, Chikorita is going to blow her top, I can say that for sure.") Scenes from a memory come to mind, Chikorita slumped sobbing amidst a room full of chaos, broken furniture and shattered trinkets. Pikachu facing me down out of sheer frustration. Misty trying to make peace, being ignored. Deliah Ketchum's face as she saw the wreckage of what had been her sitting room. Ash threatening to use Pokeballs to keep them bound unless they stopped. It was something to do with that moment and Pikachu's insistence that she be the one incarcerated that caused Chikorita to finally snap.   
  
"I don't know how much longer I can take this." Ash sounds crumpled as I feel. The whole group has been held together by the two of us, and now the toll has been taken. Sadness is swelling up inside me like a fracture, it's all I can do to stop myself waking anyone up as the tears begin to fall. My sniffling must be a giveaway as Ash moves around to my side, to stroke the top of my head. It's nothing new to him. Unbeknownst to the others, we've both been up late at night many times in the last month, ever since life took a turn for the tougher. Sometimes it's just to enjoy the silence, sometimes the company, but always to try and ease the stresses of what has become our everyday lives. We've become the Samaritans, the police force and the UN rolled into one. But the question which escapes minds is - who looks after us? Misty? Hazel? Chikorita? Pikachu? They can't deal with their own lives right now. That's why we, Ash and I, have to look after one another. Otherwise we'll fall apart, and then, well, then who knows?  
  
("Sorry Ash.") I hiccup, but he just snorts quietly.  
  
"Hey, I get enough of that during the day, so stop apologising. You do the same for me if I need it, so we're equal, ne?" I chuckle quietly at that, he's right.  
  
("Okay, I apologise for apologising. And I apologise for apologising for apologising.....And I think I'll stop there before it gets too complicated.") I can just feel him smile as a touch of dryness returns to my voice.  
  
"All apologies accepted. Anyway, I think we'd better-" The sudden rustling of bushes stops him short. We shoot a quick look at one another, and without needing to speak I light the fire quills on my back, bathing the area in a bright glow. The movement ceases suddenly, and that's as good an admission of presence as any.  
  
"Come on out, whoever it is." Ash calls quietly, and after a few pensive seconds, Hazel emerges. I relax momentarily, but then remember her deception and stiffen again.  
  
"Sorry to startle you guys, I was just out for a walk. I'll just go on back to bed, okay?" No, it's not. I want to sort this out now.  
  
("Hazel, come here for a second.") She stops dead, but doesn't make any move to come over.  
  
"Why?" I can almost feel the nervousness radiating from her.   
  
"Because we know." Ash's quiet words make her tense yet more.  
  
"Know what?" Any nonchalance she forces into her voice is wasted. The game is up. I know it, she   
knows it, all that's needed is for someone to say it.  
  
"That you've stolen from us." There is silence, save for a tiny gasp. But one that isn't from Hazel.  
  
("Stolen?") Chikorita. I exchange a worried glance with Ash. Lighting my quills must have woken her. I wanted to get this sorted out quietly, not with an audience baying for blood. But that's gone right out of the window now.  
  
"Oh, um….." Hazel stutters, casting a helpless look at me. It's hard enough for her to know that she's in trouble, without this too.  
  
("Misty, Pikachu, wake up!") Chikorita yells, springing to her feet and staring piercingly at Hazel.  
  
"Huh, whassat?" Misty, dazed after being jerked from her slumber, drags herself up.  
  
("Hazel's been stealing from us. I don't know what, but sure as hell we're going to find out.") She directs her gaze to me, then on to Ash. ("What do you know?")   
  
"I don't think it's the time right now." Ash tries to diffuse the situation, but it isn't going to work.  
  
"It is the time." Misty, now wide awake, gets up and moves to Chikorita's side. "I'm not going back to bed until I know what's going on. And I want to know now." She glares as Hazel, who is edging towards us seeing us as her only allies.  
  
("I do too.") Pikachu appears next to Misty, fixing her own eyes on Hazel.   
  
"Ah, well, she stole some money from my bag." Ash explains, keeping his tone neutral.  
  
"How much." Misty's tone is as neutral as a religious fanatic on the subject of her faith. She's angry.  
  
"About a hundred. Her Charmander isn't hers either." There's a collective pause. One hundred. That's a hell of a lot of money to us. And a possibly stolen Pokemon.  
  
("A hundred…..") Pikachu rolls the number around in her head. I'm just waiting for the info to digest…..there it goes. Her brown eyes narrow to slits, and a hiss escapes her mouth. ("You sly bastard.")  
  
"Tell me why we shouldn't make you leave right now." Misty's words are cold as arctic ice in the deepest of winters. I glance up to Hazel, and see her lip tremble. She can't defend herself. So I'm going to do it for her.  
  
("Let's hear her out, at least.") I suggest, watching them closely. They all look angry, but no-one says anything against it. Finally, I look up to Hazel. ("Well, speak now, or forever hold your peace…..")  
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Yup, a bit of a cliffy here, but I think the story is due one! Don't forget to R&R if you feel the desire, since it's taken ages to read this I guess there's time to leave a little comment. Pretty please?  
See you soon, chapter 7 won't be long.  
Dan. 


	7. Silent Tears

Okay, Chapter 7. This is the first chapter I've really been building up to, I hope I've done it justice.  
  
Big Thanks to all reviewers, and especially to Karen, who has really been a wonder. This chapter (and some future ones) are worthy of an R-rating, so that's what this story will be from now on. There will be roses, but also thorns, that's for certian.  
  
On with the story. (Oh, and sorry for the cramped appearance in parts, for some reason whenever I've tried uploading this chapter it keeps removing the paragraphing between POV changes, so I've put a line where there is a break.)  
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Where the River Flows - Chapter VII  
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23rd July - Morning. A new dawn. I've watched dawn break many, many times, but it never ceases to amaze me. Yet today, as if in recognition of my inner turbulence, the world's celing is layered by wreaths of cloud, swallowed by a prohibitive blanket for as far as my eyes will see. And I know it is today, the day my life will be turned upside down. I pray to the gods, but no-one is listening. I stare to the sky, and it leaves me blind. I'm alone now, it's for me to choose.....  
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I sit myself down on the floor, trying to avoid everyone's eyes, which all seem to be trained accusingly on me. But I feel hollow. Empty. It's as if I'm a tree, a tree which has been dying, slowly, slowly over the whole of my life, until now all that is left is a pathetic shell. No. That's not right either. Inside the decrepit ring of bark something festers, the things which have eaten me from my very core, always within me, never seen with my own two eyes. And now there is nothing left to support the bark which remains. It is about to crumble, to snap, disintegrate to powder fine as sand. Yet they do not know, they still cannot see past the thin veneer of cheer and bluster which makes up my façade.   
  
"You stole him. You stole your Charmander, without any thought, without any guilt!" Misty growls her accusation, one which strikes me hard as anything which I'd gone through, from both the mouths and fists of others. And the most bruising thing is that it is partly true.  
  
"Yes, I stole him. Happy now you've got your pound of flesh?!" My voice drops from a growl to a murmur. "But there was more thought than you'd think I was capable of, and more guilt than you have ever experienced." I don't know why I said that, I didn't want this torture to continue, I want them to leave me alone!  
  
("But you stole from us too! We trusted you, and this is how you repay!") Chikorita screeches, slapping the ground in front of me with a vine. They know about that too, but I couldn't help it. I just couldn't…  
  
"I couldn't help it!" The words escape me, and I know now that I've slipped out with the tide of adrenaline which runs high in moments such as these, it's swallowed me up and dragged me away. I wouldn't ever have said that if I were thinking straight.  
  
"What do you mean you couldn't help it? Someone held a gun to your head and forced you?" Misty's voice, laced with sarcasm and almost dripping with cynicism, makes me want to scream. She has no idea how close she is to the truth, that what she sees as ridiculous is my reality.  
  
"I had to, I had nothing." I risk a look up, and see Misty's eyes smouldering. Chikorita seems just as angry, and so does Pikachu. Cyndaquil and Ash though….something about the way they're looking at me gives me impetus to continue. "I had no towels, clothes, possessions, I've always wanted something of my own…." I bite my lip at the slip. I'm open now, vulnerable.  
  
("Why didn't you ask us, ask to borrow some money?") Cyndaquil nudges.  
  
"Because." I fight the urge to spill my soul, but I can just feel it slipping like sand through my exhausted fingers.   
  
("Because what?") Pikachu asks, irritated.  
  
"Just because." My eyes, cast to the ground, to see Misty's foot stamp in impatience.  
  
"God damn it, Hazel! Because is not enough! It's not a reason!" Her cutting tone slashes down to the bone, I feel still colder, still more empty. But it also strikes something, a deep memory, one of thousands I'd tried to bury away…A memory of a girl's voice, almost screaming with fear…My voice…  
  
*"Why? What did I do to you? It's not my fault you're here, you said yourself it's those people at the Gym! Why dad, please, don't hurt me, please…" He laughs, a deep, dirty, sinful laugh.  
  
"Why? They never gave me a reason. They just said because. That's your answer too. Because. Because you didn't do all your chores. Because you didn't get enough things today. Because it's you that cost me my life. Just because."*  
  
"It's the only reason I ever recieved! Don't you think I deserved more? Perhaps then I might have known why I've had such a shit life." The chill stalling my soul is suddenly replaced by a primal fire, that of unrestrained anger.   
  
"What?!" Misty barks, still riding on her own fury. It just incenses me more, to the point a scream is just waiting to erupt from my mouth, my hands balling into tight fists.  
  
"And all I've ever known is that it's your fault. You." Snarled from the very depths of my heart, the thing I've longed to say breaks free. Fury gives me the strength to lift my head to stare her in the eye, to release what has been chained down for too long. "You! You met me, and didn't even recognise my name! Just because I'm one of the little casualties of your decadence, buried in some shack in some slum in some part of town you never set eyes on like it's an unmarked grave!" The words break free, finally smashing through the barriers of my self-control.   
  
"Hazel, what are you talking about?" Misty's expression has slipped to confusion, Ash's to concern. But I'm being swept yet further away from reality, it seems so insignificant.  
  
"You! You and your fucking family! And what you did to me! You bunch of arrogant bastards!" My nails tear deep gouges into the earth, just as the hands of despair grasp my very heart with terrible force. My eyes feel sore, cheeks smouldering, throat choking.   
  
Misty rears up like a bucking horse. "Where the hell are you coming from, speaking to me like that! I don't even know what you mean!" That's just too much for me. I shake off the clutches of sadness for just a few precious moments, spring to my feet, and lash out rattlesnake-fast. My palm makes contact with her face, and the sound of the slap seems to rebound endlessly through the trees, as if to declare the statement of my revenge to the world. I let my hand slowly drop to my side, and watch Misty's eyes fill with tears as she puts her own hand to her head, to where redness through my attack burns brightly. After a few seconds, I slump back down to the ground, concealing my expression.   
  
"Misty! Are you okay?" I see Ash's feet move right over to Misty, and glance up to see him tilt her head gently to look at the mark. He then draws her in closely, running a hand through her hair, murmuring quietly to her. She whispers back, and he turns to face me fully. His expression makes me feel almost shameful, not flowing anger or venomous hate, but disappointment. Disappointment and something else. He moves to my side and crouches down, as I drop my face, trying to hide from, to avoid what I knew would come.  
  
"Hazel, why?" I can hear in his voice what I'd missed from his face. Concern. Almost fatherly concern. But that alone is enough to wring a solitary tear from my eyes, this time from sorrow and regret. At what I'd never had, and that it was because of me. I shake my head, frantically scrabbling to swallow the cries filling my mouth. But then, with silken tenderness, he places a finger under my chin and tilts my face up. I desperately try to avert my eyes from his, but they are as irresistible as the sun to a flower. I swallow again, to get the control to speak again.  
  
"..…Because I've been hurt too much not to….." With that pitiful statement, I know I've lost. Lost the battle I've won for so many years. The thing I promised I would never do. The first tiny hiccup passes my lips as Ash leans in and hugs me, and I can't fight any more. I bury my face into his neck, letting tears flow freely, whimpering, squeezing him so tightly that I want to never leave his arms. His warm, all encompassing arms, arms which seem to keep the pain away. A feeling I've never had before, of total security, of peace and love. Love…The thought pulls yet deeper cries from deep within, and I tense up, trying to fight them down.  
  
"Come on Hazel. Let it out. You can cry to me, and I'll just keep on holding you until you're ready." With those few caring words the last of my restraint flows ghost-like through my faltering grasp, and I just fall into the swirling mass of terror, anguish, hate, despair, loss, until I can see nothing. A thousand, a million different shades and hues all blending until they just form white, the white, pure emotion which has grown and grown inside me for so long, growing so deep and cloying that I can do nothing now but float within it until it is all washed away. Washed away by my tears, running in endless rivers down my face, into Ash's shoulder, the shoulder I've needed to cry on for so long. I don't care that I look like a little child, all that matters is I'm cared for at last. And I have the trust in him to let go of my anger, explain once and for all why I am who I am. A petty thief, a cruel witch, but at the same time, the Snow White who never had a Prince to take her curse away…   
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I keep on staring at nothing, trying to put off the inevitable. The last cigarette for the woman destined to die. Enjoying each and every moment before I spill my soul, to be so vulnerable, weak and pitiful. The things I tried to avoid, make a new start, as a new person. None of the weaknesses and shadows which are seeping out, as the first wisps of smoke preceding a blaze.  
  
"Come on Hazel, you're going to have to explain. You owe it to yourself, as well as us." I refuse to make eye contact with Ash, refuse to react at all. But I can hear the gun being cocked, and held to my head. I have to bite the bullet now, or let it kill me like it did before.  
  
"Uh, you know that I left on my thirteenth birthday, well I didn't leave on a journey. I ran away." A few faltering words, and I feel my voice die. This is so wrong, why am I saying anything?  
  
("I think we need to know why.") Cyndaquil murmurs, shuffling over to me and putting his head on my leg, like a dog wanting it's nose rubbed. I fight the urge to react to the touch, but I can't help but twitch.   
  
("Why did you just flinch?") Pikachu asks, spotting it. With that, everyone seems to focus in on me afresh. Even Misty, although her eyes are filled with caution. Too many stares, too many….. Unconsciously I shrink back away from them all, arms wrapping protectively across my chest. Fear flickers, hands of ice stroking my back, begging me to panic.  
  
"Stop wasting time. Tell us, or leave us." Misty snarls, impatience and barely contained anger seeping from every pore. But this time her voice doesn't make me angry, it's as bruising as a punch. Because I used to hear that tone, and it was never long until the verbal attack became altogether more physical…  
  
"Misty, stop. This is hard enough for her as it is." Ash steps in to defend me, while slipping a hand onto my leg. Misty's eyes register shock for the briefest moment, before softening and looking away. I glance down at Ash's hand rested feather-light on my knee, and sigh. But I don't pull away. Why? Could it be that I actually trust him? His voice breaks the silence once again, words spoken softly as a petal dancing on the summer breeze. "I guess this is very difficult. But can't you trust us? Trust .….me?" I let my suddenly hazy gaze travel up his arm, and to his face. The one face that I feel I love.   
  
"Maybe, just maybe you..…" I breathe, before taking a long, steadying gulp of air. It's inevitable, I'm going to cry, I know it.   
  
"Then tell me, don't kill yourself with regrets..…" I bite my lower lip as a solitary bead of water runs down my cheek, but hold myself together. This pain, it's swollen inside me, like an unwanted pregnancy. And the waters are about to break.  
  
"I'll try - I will." Another deep shuddering breath, and Ash moves even closer to me, placing his other arm around my shoulders. He makes me so warm, safe. Safe enough to try and explain. "I-I said I ran away. But I had to. I had no choice!" Bile rises in my throat along with the acrid taste of memories. "My parents, well, my father was a top water-type trainer. My mother wasn't married to him. She was a good friend of him, but it was a one night stand type thing. He knew I was his, and although he and my mother were not together legally through marriage, he had promised to bring me up as his daughter. Or, that's what my mother told me. I rarely saw him when I was really little, he was always off on expeditions. But then, I was about two and a half, when it happened." I grit my teeth together, and look at Misty. "Does the name Darren John, or DJ Thornton mean anything to you?" She gives me a quick glare, but seems to think for a moment. And then her expression changes. To shock.  
  
"You mean…" I nod curtly, staring at the floor once more.   
  
"Yes, I'm his daughter. The very same one that was used like some shameful picture for blackmail….." I choke off a sob as the rage within me builds again, like a contraction which makes me want to vomit. Ash and Cyndaquil both make gentle calming noises, cooling me down a little.   
  
("What do you mean by that?") Chikorita looks puzzled, switching looks from Misty to me, and back. I glance up myself, and see Misty guiltily avoiding my sight. She remembers now.  
  
"The previous Cerulean gym leader had retired. And it was between my father and the Williams family for the next ownership. And, my father was more qualified, and more talented than Misty's parents. But then the "honourable" Williams family….." I almost spit at the words "…..Found out that my father had a dirty little secret. Me. An illegitimate child. Now, Pokemon gym leaders are supposed to be upstanding examples to the community. But there was no way that my father could possibly be an upstanding member of the city if he had me, was there? And of course, the Williams family took it upon themselves to report their discovery to the league authorities, it being the right and honest thing to do, and had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that it left them clear to inherit the gym." I reach up and angrily swipe away a few tears that have leaked onto my face, so that I can see Misty clearly. "The Williams family knew quite well that I was being brought up by loving parents in a good relationship, but that didn't matter shit to them, so long as they got the gym. My dad had put in a lot of work and money into promoting himself as the next gym leader, so he ended up broke. He got shovelled into some little flat in a no-go part of town, and my mother moved in with him. But before long she got ill, and just wasted away. Kidney disease. Couldn't afford private treatment, waiting lists too long, prognosis too bad. Gone just like that, before I was four…" A quite sob erupts from my throat, and I let my body sag down again. Anguish of indescribable intensity rips at every part of me, with potency I can't control. As Ash again puts both his arms around me I cuddle into his grasp shamelessly, allowing yet more long withheld tears to flow. I stay that way, wailing like a lost child for what could be weeks or seconds, cocooned by his embrace, for once feeling safe to cry. Gradually I become aware of his fingers running through my hair as we rock smoothly, and I ease back from his shoulder, now not bothering to wipe away the wetness on my face. He studies me carefully, and I can just sense the eyes of everyone else around the fire doing the same. Finally he seems satisfied, and gives me a tiny smile.  
  
"Can you go on?" I hesitate for a moment, torn between the desire to retreat and hide and to finish the trial. It's tempting to take my life back into my hands and bury it in the sand again, but somehow I feel lighter. And I know that just one final push could rid myself of this burden for good. In this defining moment between fear and desire, desire won.   
  
"Yes." My voice is barely a croak, but it carries with it great certainty.   
  
("So, what happened next?") Pikachu nudges, reminding me of their presence. For another brief moment I consider closing up once more, but manage to fight it. Instead, I swallow back the lump in my throat, and continue in a shaky voice.  
  
"Well, soon as my mum died, my dad hit the bottle. Really hard. He at first said he was drinking to forget, but it just seemed to make him remember. I was only little, but I knew something was really wrong. My grandmother, that being my mum's mother, helped us along, she somehow got over the death well and held my dad together for a while. But then she passed away too, when I was about seven. It was the same thing as my mother, some sort of hereditary thing, I'd been tested and came up clean. But it reminded my dad of how he'd lost mum, and he gave up. Sold his Pokemon for money, and just bought spirits with it. Drank himself silly." I feel more tears begin to spill now, but out of anger. Anger at my father, and the life he gave me. My voice rises a little, gaining a sharp edge. "I had to do all the work around the house, barely got to school. My friends all left me. But then he told me, one day, to go to the nearest supermarket and get him a bottle of drink. I asked him how, as we had barely any money. He just laughed and told me to improvise. I asked him if he meant steal, and he said yes. I said no. But then, then…" I find my tone cracking up. As soon as I say any more, that's it.   
  
("Go on, you're doing really well.") Cyndaquil murmurs, moving cat-like onto my lap, dark eyes begging me silently to continue. I'm amazed to find myself relax as he does. Normally I'm uncomfortable with any sort of physical contact. Contact from a touch to a grasp to more. I know why, and I think it's time they know why.  
  
"He grabbed me by the wrist. And asked me to repeat what I had said....."  
**"I said no. I don't want to steal." He looked at me, and blinked slowly.  
  
"There's no choice about it. We ain't got no money, and I ain't got no drink. Unless you can get me some money, you're gonna have to steal me some drink."**  
Ash looks at me carefully. "He asked you to steal for him?" I nod mutely.  
  
".....I remember that I could hear a tone in his voice, one that he'd rarely used before. Normally, it was one he'd used when I'd been stupid. but as far as I could see, he was the stupid one. So, like a kid does, I decided to tell him....."  
**"No, I won't. You drink all the time, you should stop." Those brown eyes of his, which had slept in a drowned stupor for a long, long time, seemed to take a sudden focus on me. That didn't scare me this time, but from then on it would. Scare me beyond words.....  
  
"I want a drink, and you're gonna get me one. Understand?"**   
".....His husky voice, rubbed raw by the alcohol that had scorched it for too long, grew dark. I still didn't pick it up." I hear Chikorita take a deep breath.   
  
("I don't like the way that this is going.....") Cyndaquil shakes his head in agreement.   
  
("Nor do I.") He looks up to me, eyes sympathetic. ("What did you do?") I chuckle hollowly in response.   
  
"As far as I was concerned, I was going to put my foot down. But that was so foolish, looking back on it. If I had just agreed, gone and stolen his drink, he might not have found another vent for his anger....."  
**"I won't. I won't steal, it's wrong." Still holding onto my innocence, but it wasn't going to last for long.  
  
"You will." He pulls himself up to sit on the decrepit sofa he seems to have lain on forever. "I'll make you." I humph, looking to the ceiling.  
  
"No you won't."**  
".....But I didn't. And then, he got angry. Very angry, very quickly. He got out of his chair, and grabbed me by both of my wrists with just one hand. Tight. So tight it brought tears to my eyes, I thought my hands were going to be wrenched right off....." I can hear a collective gasp from everyone, and my throat feels so tight it suffocates. But I want to go on.  
**"Yeah, I will." I was transfixed by his stare, and felt fear flitter into my mind. But I didn't see it. I didn't see his spare arm moving back, nor his hand close, not until his fist connected with my cheek. I sprawled to the ground, utterly shocked. I wet myself, lost control, I just couldn't do anything. Didn't know how to react.**   
I realise that I'm weeping quietly, and Ash wraps his arms around me snugly. I accept his shoulder, letting the river of tears flow.   
  
"He hit you." Misty mutters, seemingly shocked. I don't bother to look at her, I just nod quietly, my head still embedded in Ash's soft shoulder.   
  
"Can you keep going?" His voice from but a hair's breadth away gives me some sort of strength. And I do continue.   
  
"The sight of me slumped against the wall, unmoving and losing control of my.....my bladder seemed to make him almost happy. I was just looking up at his face, searching for any form of remorse or pity. There was none. Then I realised I was sitting amidst a puddle, and my face hurt all over, and that he'd just hit me, and the shock arrived. I burst into tears, but it didn't do me any good."  
**"Look at you, pissing yourself like some animal. What are you crying for? Are you some sort of fucking baby?" I don't know why, but I felt like I was doing something wrong.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry....." He snorted at my pitiful, snivelling figure cringing against the wall.  
  
"Don't give me any shit about being sorry, as yer not! But damn well you should be, since you're the one who got me here! But crying isn't gonna help you, an' you're too goddamn weak to do anything else. So weak that you cry for nothing. If I ever see you sobbing like a pre-school kid, I'll make you feel fucking sorry for real."**  
Ash seems to hold me still tighter, and I feel more hands on my sides. Pikachu and Chikorita, also giving me their support.  
  
("Why didn't you leave him?") Pikachu asks carefully.  
  
"I was just too scared. Of course it was the drink and resentment talking. But all I knew then was that I'd been hit, and that I'd disgraced myself. I didn't know what to make of it, so I just asked him the one question on my mind."   
**"Why? What did I do to you? It's not my fault you're here, you said yourself it's those people at the Gym! Why dad, please, don't hurt me, please….." He laughs, a deep, dirty, sinful laugh.  
  
"Why? They never gave me a reason. They just said because. That's your answer too. Because. Because you didn't do all your chores. Because you didn't get enough things done today. Because you wouldn't get me my drink. Because it's you that cost me my life. Just because."**   
"No, that's awful, that's too awful." Ash almost sounds ready to burst. I can hear Chikorita quietly starting to sob too, and Cyndaquil makes a soft noise in sympathy. I feel like choking, my eyes are streaming like waterfalls, but I just manage to squeak a few last words.  
  
"After that, I was empty to his will. I changed myself, went and stole his drink. But he enjoyed the power he held over me. It seemed to give him feelings of power. So, when he felt the mood, he would hit me. Or threaten me. He was too big and strong for me, I had nowhere to go and hide, he said he'd track me down. So that was life for me. I was too scared of him to disobey or leave, not until that day just weeks ago....."   
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I finally get up from my sitting position as Hazel's breathing steadies at last, red eyelids closed from reality at least for a while. I stretch carefully, feeling my tired, cramped muscles gently beginning to unknot. I'm still stunned by what came pouring out just a few hours ago. A torrent of pain and suffering, fear and guilt so engulfing it could drown. I'd had my suspicions, but nothing to this degree, not in my wildest nightmares. I've never seen anyone cry for so long or as hard as Hazel. Just telling me seemed to be as painful as labour to her. But to find out the abuse she'd received, both physical and mental for years, it's staggering. It really upset Chikorita, she's in a bad way. To be honest, I feel like breaking down, but I can't do that. It's up to me to be strong in this situation. Turning around, I move away from where Hazel is resting, wrapped tightly in my sleeping bag, over to the now bustling fireplace. It's surrounded by the rest of my companions, and each of them seems to be in a different level of shock. By there, Chikorita sobbing quietly, crimson orbs tightly shut. Pikachu with gaze cast to the earth, forepaws tightly clamped together as if in prayer. Misty, opposite, expression unreadable as Latin to me. Cyndaquil, next to Chikorita, face set in stone but eyes threatening tears. Chikorita and Pikachu I can understand, I would expect that reaction. Cyndaquil too, trying to hold it together. But Misty......  
  
("She finally asleep?") Pikachu's quiet voice reaches my ears, and I nod.  
  
"Yeah. Tired herself out completely." I sit down by the fire, entering into the ring of light it casts.  
  
("Not surprising, I wondered if she was ever going to calm down. She just couldn't stop wailing.") Cyndaquil murmurs, staring hard into the blaze.  
  
"Not surprising though. She's barely a teen, but has more scars than most gain from a lifetime." Chikorita scratches at the dirt before her, letting tiny streams flow from the corners of her eyes.  
  
("Why would she hide this? I'm confused.") I'm thinking something, and I just know everyone else is too. A simple statement - Well, why do you hide things yourself? She's often the first to crawl into a hole. I see Pikachu draw in a small breath. Oh no, Pikachu, don't say it, please!  
  
("Ask yourself. You do it all the time, you could always tell us.") Really bright, Pikachu. I know that she's not thinking straight right now, hell, none of us are. And I know she's upset because she feels Chikorita is being mulish. But that's not going to help, not at all.   
  
("I can't tell you why. If you were me, you would understand why Hazel is like this, but I couldn't even explain it. Can you even understand yourself?") Her sallow voice pauses briefly, before continuing. ("Don't answer that, it's not worth the denial.") Pikachu, about to speak, seems to think for a moment before almost conceding the point.   
  
("I can guess.") Cyndaquil mutters bitterly, dark orbs shimmering in the firelight with over-controlled emotion.  
  
"Mmmm?"   
  
("I bet that the first thing he said to her when he was done beating her, was 'If you tell anyone, I'll.....' and you can put what you want next.") He coughs, swallowing the rising lump in his throat. ("It's not right, but she believed him. She must have been scared for her life. And she was not even ten, just a baby.....") He cuts off, unable to say more. Silence again descends among us, only punctuated by a few sobs from Chikorita, and more coughing from Cyndaquil.   
  
"Question is, what are we going to do now? Go to the police? No evidence. And we're going down to Cerulean City, which will frighten her all the more." Pikachu cuts in over me, tone bubbling with suppressed fury.  
  
("If came within ten yards of us, I'd put him down for good.....") This raises a tiny smile.  
  
"I've no doubt you would, and you'd be hard pressed to hit him before I did. I doubt her father could be bothered to come looking anyway, but to her setting foot into that city would be as good as suicide."  
  
"So what are you saying?" Misty's voice echoes around the clearing, carrying the undeniable engravings of impatience upon it. "That I have to miss that exam? The one that I've been hanging my future on?" She sweeps her arm aggressively. "You can't do this to me! I have to be there no matter what!" Her voice almost barks the last words, like it's an order.   
  
("Don't you care? Care about her at all?") The croaked voice of Chikorita sounds embittered, and oddly harsh. The blood red eyes open wide, fixed unerringly on Misty, who is taken aback. ("A little exam that you could do in six months against, against.....") She trails off, overtaken by some sort of inner conflict.  
  
"Chikorita, I've been building up for too long to have it spoiled by some girl that I hardly know." I almost blanche at that remark. That's overstepping the mark, striding way, way over it.  
  
("Well, I can see what you mean, in a way.") Pikachu muses, more thinking aloud than agreeing. She doesn't have the chance to think of anything else.   
  
("I can't believe this! You're talking as if she's sort of stranger. Like someone you've bumped into in doorway, someone that you've seen begging on the street corner.") Chikorita's frenzied monologue is threatening to become a full-blooded scream, and I feel it's not far away. ("She's a person, and she's hurting. If you met someone in the road bleeding and shocked, wouldn't you help them up? Wouldn't you?!") Her pitch reaches a screech, amplified by scrambling to her feet.  
  
"No, no I'm not, I'm just saying - " Misty is cut off by a whip-crack as Chikorita slaps her vine into the dirt, incensed.  
  
("Just saying? What you're saying is you're willing to go on without a damn for her, just for a little qualification.") I'm baffled as to why she is reacting like this.   
  
("Hey, take it easy, it's not like she was saying we should leave Hazel behind.") Pikachu jumps in to defend Misty, holding an earthen paw up to try and stop the tirade. It doesn't work.  
  
("She was, and so were you. You'd be begging for sanctuary if you were here, yet here you are, talking down about her like she's a fucking object!") Just at the periphery of vision, I see Cyndaquil cover his ears and close his sight off tightly. This scares me, in all the time that I've known Cyndaquil, he's never done that.  
  
"We weren't! That's a damn lie! I never said that we should leave her here, I said that we can't afford not to go to Cerulean!" Misty's rage is magnifying with the intensity of her voice, burning intense as the sun.  
  
("No, YOU can't afford to get to Cerulean! It's nothing to do with me! You were implying we abandon her!") Chikorita shrieks back, matching Misty blow for blow. That can't last.  
  
"No, you were assuming! You always assume the worst!" Chikorita's lip begins to tremble, her wave of animosity breaking whilst Misty still rides high atop her own. I must step in, this has gone way too far already.  
  
"Now cool it you two, no need to....."  
  
("How can you do this? Consider yourself above her, after just hearing her spill her soul to you?") I'm acceded by a voice is now more wobbly than waspish, but Chikorita won't give up just yet. To be honest, I can see both points of view, but I am on Chikorita's side. I don't want Misty to miss her chance, but I can't let Hazel go, not after she's given me her trust. And she needs me, needs me more than anyone ever has.  
  
"Where do you get this bullshit from? I never said anything like it!" Liar, Misty. You don't always do it consciously, but you still look down on Hazel. And I know you're angry, but what you said earlier was way, way past reasonable.  
  
("You did. You may not know it, but you did.") Comes the stated reply. Pikachu has given up, she's just watching. I try breaking in again.  
  
"Calm down, both of you."  
  
"Still always assuming the worst! Why can't you see anything from my point of view, huh? Why do you have to take her side, without even considering it!" Misty still ignores my calm tone, riding in her own chariot of fire, impervious to anything else. Her thinning face just serves to concentrate and intensify the searing glare she is trying to scorch her adversary with.   
  
("That's not true. Cyndaquil agrees with me, don't you?") All noise dies as four gazes center on the figure who is laying with his eyes screwed tight and forepaws placed over ears in an attempt to shelter himself from the tempest of noise.  
  
("Cyndaquil.....?") Pikachu looks puzzled, I guess she doesn't realise what the constant bickering has done to him, or to me.   
  
("See what your screaming has done?") Shit. Chikorita spins to stare at Misty, sensing fresh ammunition. She doesn't understand either, that Cyndaquil's reaction isn't just down to this fight, but to many. Yet she's quite ready to blame Misty, maybe out of mistaken belief, maybe just to score a few points.  
  
"My screaming?" Misty's eyes narrow to slits in reply. "You were the one screeching accusations like there was no tomorrow!"   
  
("Yeah, right. Blame me!") The noise once again reaches crescendo, and I feel just about ready to scream. But someone else does it first.   
  
("STOP IT, STOP IT ALL OF YOU!!") Cyndaquil roars blisteringly, slamming his forelegs into the ground, and I feel the very earth seem to quiver beneath me. Into the aftermath silence echoes, the only sound Hazel moaning and shifting in her fitful slumber. As I recover from the shock, I focus on his face. He looks furious, but it's shallow. He's about to crash, I can see it in his eyes. They don't glisten like a hot coal from the fire, they glisten like a cloud heavy with water. I start to slide over to him as he takes a deep breath, trying to recover the hold he has on himself.   
  
("Cyndaquil? What's wrong?") Pikachu asks, concerned. The response is a terse shake of the head. He doesn't even trust himself to speak.   
  
"Huh? What was that about? What's the problem Cyndaquil?" Misty sounds perplexed, aqua eyes mirroring the sentiment in her words. Again from Cyndaquil that single head shake, accompanied by his fire quills once again flaring into life, sending further spears of light the night.  
  
"Do you need to ask?" I answer, placing a careful hand on his head in reassurance.   
  
("Yes.") Pikachu replies. I couldn't say if she's being sarcastic or genuine.   
  
("Fine, I'll tell you.") Cyndaquil abruptly sits up, and looks hard at each one of us in turn, except me, before continuing in a tone that could be used to carve diamonds. ("You're the problem. All of you. All I hear, morning, noon, night, is this. Bickering, sniping, harsh words. Every molehill a mountain. Every second an hour.") He stops, quiet authority in his countenance, and studies each of them in turn. None of them meet the gaze, Chikorita is resting her head on her forepaws, eyes tightly shut. Misty is staring at the fire, expression empty. Pikachu is seemingly examining an arm, but I can just feel her shame seeping from every pore. And Cyndaquil isn't done yet, not by a long shot. ("Do you know how many times I've heard this before in the last few weeks? No? Well, neither do I. But it's incessant, like the ticking, ticking, ticking of a clock, a timer for an explosion, the countdown to detonation. An endless tug of war between those who don't care why they began to pull, but keep doing so anyway. And I've been the rope wrung tight between the clutches, the bone contested by between two dogs who don't seem to care for the piece of meat they are contesting as much as victory over the enemy.") As his clinical voice shudders I wrap my arm around him in support, careful to avoid his firey quills.  
  
("But I do care! Of course I care about you!") Chikorita throws her head up in exclamation, cherry orbs wide.   
  
"We all do!" Misty adds, this time with genuine sentiment. Cyndaquil's shoulders sag subtly, like he's being drained of the very frustration and suppression that has kept them up against their will.  
  
("Well I'm sorry I have to ask. I really am..... But I couldn't be sure, it's like I'm nothing more than an object any more. I'm a void which can be filled then ignored, like some cesspit for excess emotion. That's what I have become, a receptacle for hatred and fear that has no other purpose.") He glances up to me, dark eyes tearing up. ("And I'm sorry if I make you feel awful by saying this, but it's only Ash that has made me feel worthwhile, made life worthwhile, for some time. Without him, life wouldn't matter.") With that, he lets a tiny droplet of salty water escape his eyes, only for me to see. ("Sorry Ash, but I'm going to have to take a walk. Please don't follow me, I will see you again soon, I promise.") The last words are whispered for only me to hear. Yet they rain heavy as hammer blows. My last ally, leaving.....  
  
"I don't know how I'm going to cope with this....." I murmur back, truthfully.  
  
("You can. You're stronger, braver than I am. I just need a while to think. Don't worry, I'll never be far away, I'll track you. Ever need me, just re-trace your steps.") He gives me an all too brief nuzzle, and then slides off my lap.   
  
"We're sorry, we didn't know you felt that way....." Misty's hesitant voice trails off as Cyndaquil shakes his head definitely.  
  
("It's fine, just me over-reacting I guess. Anyway, I'm going for a little walk, just to cool down. I might be a while, so don't wait up.....") He gazes skyward briefly, again scanning for the moon which is withdrawn from sight, before trotting methodically into a gap between two bushes and out of sight.   
  
("Cyndaquil.....") Chikorita breaths almost inaudibly, face laden heavy with regret. An errant zephyr hisses into the silence as it disturbs the undergrowth, just heightening the shell of silent tension now enclosing our little group. No-one wants to ask anyone else if what they fear, and I know, may be true.   
  
("Ah, Ash.....") Pikachu cracks the shell with a tentative tone.  
  
"Yeah?"   
  
("Do you, uh, do you feel like that too?") I look away from where Cyndaquil has left, to see her fixing me with a nervous, but determined stare. For a second I feel like mimicking my comrade's actions, spilling the built-up tension without holding back. Yet somehow, I don't know whether it's through reflex, determination or cowardice, I don't.  
  
"No, no. I'm fine, honestly." While my face and mouth are lying with great determination, my eyes are screaming with every ounce of their being. About Hazel's sorry plight. About the constant tearing and buffeting of verbal combat. And the doubts lingering over whether three little words that my love spoke, beyond conscious thought, were true.   
  
("So long as you're sure.") Chikorita utters, morose. ("I'm going to bed.") She makes her way to her spot, and settles down, still facing away from everyone.   
  
"Are you sure, Ash?" Misty asks gingerly, getting up.  
  
"Yeah." I'm amazed I sound almost convincing. She takes it at face value, bidding me a soft 'goodnight' and laying on her sleeping bag, aqua orbs closing tight and turning over towards the woods.  
  
("Liar.") Pikachu states quietly, hopping over to me. I look down to her, but for some reason, can't agree.  
  
"No I'm not." She gazes at me as if I've gone crazy.   
  
("Ash, I can tell when you're lying, I've known you for longer than anyone apart from your mother. And maybe, just maybe, I know you better than her. Why are you lying to me?!")   
  
"Because there's no truth to tell you. I'm fine, really." This attempt of denial is as convincing as an outright lie, which is what it is.   
  
("Oh, I give up. But only for now, Ash, I won't rest fully until you can trust me.") Pikachu sounds almost bitter, and I can see why. She knows me like no-one else does, yet she feels shut out. I'm guilty to the point of misery, but not to the point of confession. Irked by my silence, she hops past me to her own spot in the camp which is at my back, and rests her head on her own cushion, also turning her eyes away. And now here I sit, next to the dying fire, without a single gaze on me. Soon as lying down, everyone turned their backs on me. Even Cyndaquil has left. Encapsulated in a ring of silence. Yet all of them turn to me soon as they feel aggrieved. Perhaps Cyndaquil is right. Maybe all I am is a collection tin for bitterness. But I have to stay and find out. Even if it rips me to shreds. As I stare into the fire, I think about the idea of a sinking ship, something Cyndaquil had once alluded to me and him. And now, the one I had clung onto has sunk beneath the waves. Leaving me. My arms are tired, and my eyes are stinging with salt water. Not just of my imaginary sea, but of my own eyes. Well, since everyone else has been crying to me, I think I have the right to shed a silent tear for myself.....  
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My stare travels out into the woods, scouring for a returning figure. Maybe I should have gone after Cyndaquil? Like he did for me? But no, I waited, and let him leave. But I don't know if he will return, there was something so definite about him tonight. I shed a silent tear in fear of losing a friend through sheer ignorance, weakness and pettiness.  
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My stare scans the sky, searching for the star that I was told was mine when I was a child. I can't see it shine now. Even in the moonless sky. It's almost like my star is going out too, yet not dying in a blaze of light, but an empty whimper. I shed a silent tear of pain for Hazel, and for my the future, for the joker, fear of losing my love, and even myself.  
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My stare fixes on his back, knowing he can't see me. His head bows, and I just know he's in tears. He feels so deeply, he used to be an open book, now he closes the covers. But I've seen him, in that pose,. before now, and I know what he is doing. I shed a silent tear of regret for my arrogance and use of him, and in memory of happy days we left behind.  
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My stare is inward, reflecting on what I have done. I have been awake since almost the start of the argument, and heard what was said. Yet after the tales of wonder and delight I was told of their history, I feel distraught that it is I who have upset the balance. I shed a silent tear in despair for my stupidity, and the devastation that is my history.   
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My stare is back to the campsite, watching the glow of the fire dying slowly. I've made up my mind now, and I must go. I will return, but until then I will feel the burden of leaving my family, my home, for the first time, and the sense of abandonment this brings. I shed a silent tear of remorse, for leaving my friend to fight on his own, like letting him drown. I turn away from the scene as the last wisps of light die, like mist below the sun, to leave darkness, and set out on my own. My mind screams at me that it's like Hazel's way, trying to get enough distance to escape my problems, leaving them behind not seeing them through, letting a wound try to bleed and clot rather than biting my lip and stitching it shut. Yet I can't, not yet. At the edge of my hearing I sense the river, the river we are following, the one that runs to the Cerulean sea. By the time the river meets the sea, I will rejoin my friends, and see this through. But for now, I will just let the river take it's path, washing past me, over me, irrespective of my will, until I can brave the currents again.  
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Hope you enjoyed that, it took a lot of effort and time to write this chapter. But I love doing it!  
  
Please R&R before you close the page, it'll only take a second ;)  
  
'Til next time,  
  
Dan. 


	8. Caught in a Web

Well, it's chapter 8 time. For once I've not got much to say, other than a big big apology for the long delay. Too much going on, not enough hours in the day, and periodic losses of motivation have accounted for a two-month gap, which is a bit long even by my standards ^_^;  
  
Big thanks to all reviewers, you're all absolutely brilliant and put a big smile on my face. And special thanks Cultnirvana who continues to make sure that this story is actually legible, in between listening to me rant MSN and trying to stop her cats eating her dinner!  
  
Okay, on with the story.  
  
Where the River Flows - Chapter VIII  
  
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My eyes creak open, heavy lids wrenched apart by the crowbar that is the sun, shining through the trees. Just a thin shaft of light striking the clearing, but enough to awaken me. I know that this morning will not be a happy one, and as of yet, I can't for the life of me work out why. It just seems that my body is coated by lead, and however much sleep I've had, it's not been enough. Like a patient awakening from a coma, I cautiously move each part of me in turn. So far so good. Next, to turn over. Turning, and a glimpse of blazing blue sky, sliding in, and then out of sight. Now, turn complete. I can see a back. Ash's back. Slumped forward, head bowed, in front of a long dead fire. It strikes a familiar note, deja-vu of something. Of course, this was the last thing I saw last night. Last night.....  
  
("Ohhh, oh no.....") My own voice shocks me with it's presence as I groan, the veil of early-morning amnesia drawn away from my eyes. Last night, last night, I can't find words in this sleep-drugged brain to describe it. Best if I don't try then. I cast another glance around the site. Hazel, she went through so much. I couldn't believe what she told us. But it was all true, it must have been. No-one could seem so torn and withered, so emotionally scarred while telling lies. I scan around - Misty, god knows what she thinks really. But her and Chikorita, what was all that about? So far as I can see it, there wasn't any point in their argument. Chikorita went off at a little thing, it was more Misty letting off steam than really suggesting we abandon Hazel. Sight settles on the third figure, leaf drooping down over her face. I simply don't know why she reacted. And it wasn't even me she was reacting to, I've never known her to try and scream Misty down. Finally, Ash. Sleeping now. When his head was bowed last night, all I wanted was to go and crawl into his lap. He wouldn't confide in me. Why? He has always, always believed in my help. When it's been the last chance saloon for us both, we've turned to one another and been able to get through. And, of all the events that have happened until now, it's the one that has burnt me the most.  
  
Hold on.  
  
Me, Ash, Misty, Hazel, Chikorita.....  
  
Cyndaquil?  
  
I spring to my feet, nearly overbalancing. Another scan of the area. Nope. I nearly panic, but force myself to calm down. My ears did catch one thing that Cyndaquil whispered to Ash, late last night. 'I promise.' I think that now I know what he meant, but I wish to be sure. And only one way to do that. I stumble over to the sleeping figure and nudge him awake.  
  
"Hmmm?" Chocolate eyes flutter open, followed by his mouth which expells a huge yawn. "What time is it?" I shrug bluntly.  
  
("Dunno. Don't have a watch.") I watch Ash stretch his back, eyes shutting again as a cacophony of clicks signal his spine returning to normal position. The lids part again, revealing orbs now tainted with sadness. He's remembered too. Unsurprising. I can see moisture swimming around the corners of those eyes, and feel tempted to pursue him about, well, him, but it's not the time or the place. He seems to notice my silence, as he fixes on me with a gentle gaze.  
  
"Something troubling you?" I snap off the urge to answer either 'Yes, you' or 'shouldn't I be asking that?' And just nod.  
  
("Where's Cyndaquil?") He begins to look around in mock-surprise, but I shake my head definitely to stop him. ("Don't try the 'what do you mean' line, he's not here, and I know you know why.") He looks uncertain, so I sigh in annoyance. ("Put it this way, any of the others, even Hazel, will ask within five seconds of noticing, and all of them are guaranteed to be in a real dynamite mood this morning. Wouldn't you want me backing you up?")  
  
"Yeah, I guess so." He takes a deep breath, looking away from me. "He told me he needed a little time to find himself, a little room to work it out. He doesn't hate us, not any of us, it's just he couldn't take the tension any more." His voice softens as he speaks, both out of memory and out empathy. After so long with him at my side, I don't need to think about how he acts and speaks. The tiniest gesture speaks volumes. But then again, the little voice of the mind says, in it's usual sarcastic chirp, why did it take you so long to notice?  
  
("Why do you seem to understand what he's talking about so well?") My tone is harder than I wanted it to be, bitter edge provided by both Ash's refusal to talk to me and at the realisation that I haven't been listening anyway.  
  
"Hey, I've been under pressure before, so has everyone." My lip is being bitten frantically to stop myself from screaming at him. So lackadasical in tone, yet so obvious in manner. He might realise that he's not fooling me, in fact I'm sure he does. Thing is, I don't know what to do. To push, or to yield. Maybe I'll try another little prod, see if I can get a reaction.  
  
("I don't know if you've ever had to live with this sort before.") Lame. Totally lame.  
  
"Stress is stress. It's not a problem." Ash gets up slowly, easing out the knots in his body. Jesus, next time I'm going for the direct route, the softly-softly approach isn't working worth a damn. He reaches down to me, and scratches my head. "Pikachu, could you tell me where the river is? I want to get washed, but I've lost my bearings." I nod silently, trying not to allow his touch to relax me. A twitch of the ears and I pick up the sounds of running water.  
  
("Over that way.") I point a forepaw in the direction Cyndaquil left, and he gives a simple 'thanks' in return as he strolls off. Crap. Why didn't I ask him what I wanted to know straight out? Why hadn't I asked him how he was before now? Answer one, because I'm a coward. Answer two, because I'm self-centred. I'm one bundle of joy this morning, aren't I? Ahhh, shut up Pikachu. No point in wallowing in self-pity and despair. Even if I close the curtains on the world for a while, when I draw them again, the same world will again greet my sight.  
  
"Uhnnnn....." But that doesn't mean I want to be here when Misty wakes up. I think I'll join Ash at the river, better that than face her first thing in the morning! I scamper out of the clearing, heading for the sound of splashing water. Maybe, just maybe, if Ash is leaning over the river, I could give him a full body wash, that'll be sure to wake him up at this time of the morning. All it needs is a little nudge in the right place to set the ball rolling, to coin a phrase.  
  
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I just about raised a smile when Ash and Pikachu trailed into the camp, not long after I'd awoken, arguing humorously and both soaking wet. Something about Pikachu being a sneak and a trickster, and Ash being just as bad. But apart from that, smiles have been extremely thin on the ground this morning. Misty and Hazel have both been stony-faced, and I was shocked to find that my fears over Cyndaquil were justified. At least he won't be gone too long, I hope.  
  
"Ladies, we've got another fifteen minutes, then we're out of here, okay?" I nod silently, glancing around. I've not got much to do, so I think I'll go get a drink. Since Ash and Pikachu got wet from going that way, I'm guessing that's where the water is. I stroll off into the undergrowth, and before long, emerge at the side of the river. So far, I've done almost everything possible in various parts of this river, swam in it, washed in it, drank from it, even fished just once (well Ash fished, I was moral support). I hear the crash of a bush being parted at speed on the other bank, and look up to see a small figure move out of sight. Was it.....him? Well, I'm not going to be able to find out, so may as well forget it.  
  
"Oh, hi....." Hazel's voice from just behind me stuns me into spinning around, resulting in a guilty look on her face. "Sorry, I'll come back in a minute." Her loose grey t-shirt whips up as she turns, ready to make off back to the camp.  
  
("No, there's no need to go.") I shuffle a few feet upstream, allowing Hazel to take a place on the bank. She kneels gently, puts her peach towel to one side, slips the shirt daintily over her head and off, places her hands gingerly on the water's edge, and then dispenses with subtelty, thrusting her whole head into the cold water. I take a short drink as she holds it there, watching curiously. That's twenty seconds, twenty five, thir-  
  
"Ahhhh, that's cold!" The words echo loud across the river as her head re- appears, water draining off it and her hair, now almost black in colour, plastered across her face. She sweeps it out of the way, sits back onto her haunches and closes her eyes as if concentrating for a moment. Then a sigh, and a shrug of the shoulders. "Nope, didn't work." Pushing the sopping hair further out of her eyes, she picks up the towel and starts to dry off the excess water.  
  
("What were you expecting it to do?") My interested voice causes a pause in the frantic rubbing, before Hazel responds from amidst the mangled heap of towel and hair which is totally concealing her face.  
  
"Get rid of my headache. Sometimes a short sharp shock is the way to do it." She starts scrubbing her scalp again, with less vigour. "But sometimes it makes it worse, and I think today is one of those days." She slides down to a sitting position and lets go of the towel, allowing it to hang down over her head like some peach hood. Now it's stopped flailing around, I recognise the pattern on the towel itself. Looks like the Pokemon center we recently left is going to have to budget for an extra one this year, since I can't see Hazel taking it back.  
  
("I tend to find doing nothing is the best idea.") I don't know if she's listening to me, but better hearing my own voice than silence.  
  
"That's not going to be a choice today, Ash is planning to cover ten miles by this evening. This will be one fun trip." She mutters cynically, still gazing at nothing.  
  
("True.") I reply. And now silence. I think I'll be heading back.....  
  
"Is it my fault that Cyndaquil left?" The question takes me by total surprise. I gaze at Hazel, mouth gaping like a stunned magikarp out of water. She thinks it's all down to her? Why? She must take my silence as agreement, because she lets her head drop and shoulders sag. "I knew it was, soon as I found out. Not surprised, I wouldn't want to be around me either." Her tone is so miserable that I almost want to slap her purple. There's just that inbuilt feeling sometimes, when someone is so sunk in the depths of despair, that I want to kick them for being so damn miserable. But the desire passes in a flash, being replaced by pity. If anyone is allowed to sink like this it's her.  
  
("No no, I'm more at fault than you are. It's not down to you, really.")  
  
"Yeah, right." She sags more, appearing to gaze at the water. "I've caused so much trouble, it would've been better if I'd stayed in Cerulean city after all." That sparks me into life.  
  
("No! No, no, NO! You should never, ever blame yourself! Not for that! Never!") The passion and fervour empowering my voice stuns even me. But then again, this sort of story strikes such a resonant chord in me, I couldn't even pretend to be indifferent.  
  
"But why? I mean, I've not been good to anyone, Misty hates me, Cyndaquil has left, and now they all know I'm an unwanted piece of crap." Bitterness, destructive as acid, yet fragile as glass, rides deep in her tone. No way. No goddamn way. No way in the hottest fires of hell am I letting it pass me by,  
  
("Bullshit! I know where you're coming from, and I know you're parents are your parents! They're not YOU!") As I scream the last word, she finally turns to face me. Her eyes are so shaken, it's almost like they're haunted. Haunted by a malevolent spirit, that of her father. Well I've got news for that fucker. I'm coming with the crucifix to Cerulean City, and I'm going to banish him for good. Starting now.  
  
"But....." Hazel's hollow voice falters, unable to find words.  
  
("Never, ever believe you deserved what you got. Sometimes those who are meant to be your elders and betters are ignorant, sometimes they're choking, sometimes they're straight out bastards!") Seeing her tear laced face I soften my tone from barking denouncements, right down to just a subtle stroking of sound. ("I don't expect you to understand this now. In many ways I still don't. But what you're told you are and who you really are is never the same. If I say to you 'Who are you?' and you can answer me without saying what anyone else thinks, you're free. Just try to realise that who you are and who you're made out to be aren't the same for now.") I've shocked myself with the depth and philosophy of that speech, but I can see some of it making sense to Hazel. After a few moments, she nods.  
  
"Okay, okay. I'll try to think about it." She turns to stare at the river again, and for a moment I think she's going to question me, why I seem to understand. Deep down, I seem to want her to. But no, she just sighs and hesitantly gets up. "The others must be waiting. C'mon, let's get back." There's still a waver in her voice, and I shake my head.  
  
("No. You don't want anyone asking 'what's happened', 'what's wrong' and 'are you alright' at this time of the morning. Stay here a minute, wipe those tears you've tried to ignore away and calm down. Besides, don't know about you, but I can't handle cross-questioning after half a night of sleep.") She cranes around so she can see me, and smiles.  
  
"I guess. So, anything you feel like chatting about." Yes, my mind screams. How about me? But I still have veto over my mind, at least for the moment.  
  
("Did I ever tell you about the time that Misty ran into Ash bathing naked in a stream, but for some reason decided to, well, hide up a tree and watch?") Gawd, that's a story of legend, and it's still as funny now as when it actually happened.  
  
"No! Sounds good though." Hazel settles down to look at me while I grin slyly. Well, maybe it's not quite as funny now as when it happened, but at the time it was 10 on the Richter scale of laughter. Now it's only 9.5.  
  
("Well.") I get comfortable, and put on the traditional voice used when delivering as funny story, as Hazel listens entranced. ("It all started on one tuesday, when Ash told Misty he was going to have a swim. He forgot the towel, so Misty, having found it, followed him a few minutes later to give it to him.....")  
  
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I hate my hair. It keeps draping, a dark orange curtain, across my vision. Escaping any attempt I make to trap it and hold it down with consummate ease. It was bad enough at the start of the day, but now nearing evening it's sweaty, grimy and clumped together, whipping my cheeks like a cat o' nine tails with every step, leaving greasy streaks with each contact. Not only that, but the bag grows heavier on my back, my legs are growing leaden and my stomach is growling with hunger. I wish I'd had more lunch. I wish I'd had lunch. Just any food, anything. No, don't be tempted so easily, at least wait for tonight. It's much easier at night to sneak away. I hate the silence too, it's thicker and more oppressive than the damn heat. I hate the incessant chirping of insects. I hate the bastard nettles that stung my ankle this morning. I hate my ankle for stinging. I hate the sun, I hate the trees, I hate the dirt, I hate every-damn-thing!  
  
"That's it! I've had enough!" I try to scream my protest to the world, but all that emerges is a rather dry croak. Still, it's heard by the others, who stop and turn to me. Wearing expressions from surprise to annoyance, but all with a tone of exhaustion.  
  
"We've still got a bit to go, Misty. I don't want you being late arriving in Cerulean." Shit, if Ash sounded any more reasonable he'd have to take up priesthood. And I'm not at home to Mister Reasonable this afternoon, no matter how hard he knocks on the door.  
  
"I don't care! I'm worn out, my ankle is killing me, my shoulders are aching and my hair is a mess!" I spy a boulder nearby, and go over to sit on it, placing emphasis on the sigh of relief as I do so.  
  
("Well, I'm up for a break.") Pikachu agrees, slumping down on a patch of grass.  
  
"Me too." Hazel mutters, sagging against a tree trunk and fishing something from her backpack. A water bottle emerges in her grasp, and she drains the last of her drink. Amazing how two people can avoid eye contact for a whole day to avoid what they don't want to see.  
  
"Well, I guess it can't hurt." Ash gives in, albeit reluctantly, sliding his heavy load from his shoulders. Chikorita spies a prime patch of clover among the brush and bare earth, and settles on it carefully.  
  
"Sheez, whose idea was it to come out in the height of summer anyway?" An unusually whiny statement for me, but I can't be bothered hiding it.  
  
"Yours." Ash replies over his shoulder, disappearing into the heat haze and bushes, presumably to deal with some private business. For a second I entertain the idea of following him, but dismiss it. I've already been, well, humiliated from trying to spy on him from a tree. My fault, but hey, a girl can be curious, right?  
  
"Anyone know where I can find some water?" Hazel asks the group, but only gets a shrug from Pikachu and a sleepy grunt from Chikorita, who is already dozing off. Without looking up I grasp my water canteen and lob it in her direction. A muttered word of thanks is all I receive, followed by the noise of rapid drinking.  
  
("I've had enough for today.") Pikachu groans, turning over onto her side and shutting her eyes. Very quickly her breathing slows into the tidal in- out of sleep. Leaving myself and Hazel. I glance up, just in time to see her look away. For some reason, I can't really work out now why our animosity started. I think I had lots of reasons, mostly little and petty. She had her reason, and, when I think about it, that was really quite petty. No, very petty. She ended up with a tough life. Some do, mine wasn't exactly a bed of roses either, up until her age. And yeah, no-one should have to go through what she did. But what is petty is that she tries to take it out on me. Blame me. Me. I was what, six, seven when that happened? So what the hell does it have to do with me? I'm just someone to take it out on, a lightning rod for her storm. As far as I'm concerned, she owes me an apology. Maybe then we can work out our differences. Maybe.  
  
"I think Ash is coming back." Thanks for the information Hazel, although the fact I can hear him is a bit of a clue.  
  
"I'm going for a quick walk." Anywhere, just to get away from the tension. I turn and head off in the opposite direction Ash went, not really caring where I'm actually going. Away from everyone else is enough. Just a minute of walking, slow and careful, looking at my feet. Now, I think I'm far enough away. So that, as I drop to my knees and pound the very earth with my fists, it can't be heard. Blind fury, trapped without direction, emerging through my hands. My eyes stare into the ground blankly, unseeing. My mouth fights the urge to scream. I don't feel my knuckles grow sore, the smooth skin inflamed and then broken. Blinding white clouds of anger, occluding every sense. The smell of sweat, dust, the taste of blood from a bitten lip, the scorching pain of my tired arms and blistered fingers, all ignored. Almost as if they were not there. There is nothing but emotion. Until the real world finds a way to re-enter. Dust, thrown up from my incessant pounding of the dry earth, reaches my nose and mouth. As I gasp for air, it is drawn down deep into my throat and lungs. The itching sensation does what pain could not, and draws me from my rage into a fit of coughing. Breath caught in my chest, choking on the very air. Slowly, painfully, I clear the irritation. And ease back into reality, and so the agony. I raise a shaking hand to my face and gaze at it with wide eyes. Blood seeps from the ruined mess of my nuckles, a small fragment of stone embedded into my palm. My mouth throbs, lip oozing a metallic taste. And I'm scared, scared as a lone child in a graveyard at midnight. Such anger, bitterness, and I couldn't control it. No control, no control over myself. It's like I'm being drawn along with the current, my future out of my own grasp. Sight travels up along my arm, then down my torso. Yes, I do have control. I've proven it, shedding unsightly parts of me. One mauled hand moves down to my stomach, and I pinch the skin. Yes. there is less than before. My diet and restrictions are working. If I can control my body, I can control my mind. The shrinking of my stomach over but a few weeks has been a victory, and proof of my dominance over myself. Mind seemingly clearer, I drag myself up to my feet. I repeat three words, time and time again under my breath. 'I'm in control'. Yet anger still rises unbidden, and I accept the urge to lash out at a nearby sapling, kicking it hard. Another bruise to add to those on my hands. Swearing profusely I turn away, but just catch a flash of movement as I do so. I turn back to face whatever it was that was spying on me. And this time, I do scream.  
  
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Hazel is dozing off now, to join the Pokemon in slumber land. Leaving me waiting for Misty. Not that I mind that, but it'd be nice for someone else to at least make the effort of keeping me company. Cyndaquil, I never realised how much I'd miss him, really. I wonder how he is getting on? I know he'll return to us someday soon, but I do wish he was here with me right this moment. Although it is nice to maybe have time for my thoughts for once. A wrenching, piercing scream tears through that idea. Misty! I bolt off in the direction of the noise, ignoring the branches and leaves whipping my face. A flash of red catches the eye, and I burst in to see Misty stood in a frozen trance, her petrified stare being returned by..... a Caterpie. Admittedly an angry looking Caterpie, but still a Caterpie. I don't know whether to be amused or pissed. I'm still trying to work out which when it decides that whatever reason it came out for in the first place isn't worth any more of it's time, and crawls up the trunk and into the leaves, out of sight. Misty stands stock still for a moment longer, and then shakes herself into reality.  
  
"Are you okay, Misty?" And that innocent query makes her jump higher than she would if she'd got a Caterpie in her underwear.  
  
"Jesus Ash! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" She spins around, normally pale cheeks wearing a hot blush.  
  
"Sorry, I just....." Misty breaks me off with a harsh tone.  
  
"I could've been doing anything! You just barged in on me!" Any humor left from the Caterpie moment has evaporated in the face of Misty's scathing attack. Leaving anger, and the amount isn't getting any smaller. "I came out here to get some privacy! You can't just follow me, there are things about me you shouldn't know! Not to mention things you shouldn't see! Sheez, I could've been stark naked for all you knew!" I've had enough.  
  
"This coming from the 'lady' who spied on me bathing from a tree?! That's rich!" My growled retort stuns Misty, I don't think she expected a reply. But it lasts only a second, her usually tranquil aqua gaze narrowing into a searing stare, tinged with venom.  
  
"It's different for girls! I didn't ask for you to be here. So you shouldn't be, what I do on my own is my business, and mine alone." I give a derisory chuckle.  
  
"So next time I hear a friend scream, I'm not allowed to worry?! You want me to just ignore it?" Again her eyes flash, and through the descending red mist I sense that logic has just left the building.  
  
"It wasn't anything really dangerous!"  
  
"How the hell was I to know?! You don't have one fucking scream for 'it's nothing really' and another for 'I'm in mortal danger' do you!" My voice raises to a shout, as I can't resist the frustration any more.  
  
"Well next time, just don't bother!" She screams back, throwing her arms in the air. And I catch sight of blood.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with your hands?" Soon as I say the words she withdraws them from view, but not after I've had a longer look. And I'm scared by what I see.  
  
"Nothing." In a heartbeat, Misty's manner has gone from flaring anger to something almost worse. A pose reminiscent of a lost child, confused and fearful. I don't understand why, same as I don't understand why her hands are in such a state. All I do know is it worries me, a chill of fear penetrating deep down into my bones.  
  
"Doesn't look like nothing to me."  
  
"Forget it." Trying to be dismissive, Misty shakes her head and shrugs. No way am I taking that for an answer.  
  
"Come on, let me take a look at it." I say gently, reaching for her arm. It's drawn away with lightning speed.  
  
"I said it's nothing!" She yells, returning to using anger as her defence. But I can see her eyes glistening, hear her voice quavering. Yet again, I'm stuck between anger and worry. The same quandary, time after time, for too long now.  
  
"It's not nothing, let me see." I move closer, expecting her to retreat, turn her back, even try to escape. I don't expect the shove that plants me on my back, sending up a cloud of tan shaded dust. I raise myself up on my elbows, seeing the same shock I feel at the assault emerging on Misty's face. I know she doesn't know why she just did what she did. Yet once again adrenaline brings anger to the fore. I scramble to my feet and glare at my friend, blank fury taking hold.  
  
"Ahhhh, well, uh, sorry." Misty stutters, taking a defensive step back. I take a step forwards.  
  
"Why the hell did you do that?!" I can feel my fingers curl, my mouth form a snarl. I would never attack Misty, never. But I'm too tired to fight this reaction, the shock and surprise.  
  
"I-I don't know." She turns her head away, but not before I see a drop of liquid flowing down her face, glistening as it catches the few shards of sun breaking through the canopy. It slaps me out of my annoyance with more effect than a hand ever could.  
  
"Something isn't right, I can tell. Let me see if I can help. Please?" The pleading in my words chimes clear as a bell, but she's not heeding it's call.  
  
"No, leave me be. I'm fine." Lies spoken with a voice shaking as a leaf on the breeze.  
  
"Misty....." She rounds on me, this time ignoring the free-flowing fluid washing from her wild eyes.  
  
"Won't you just Go Away?! Get lost, move on, piss off, however you want to put it I don't care, but I don't want you here! You're on me like some snake, squeezing and choking me more and more! The sight of you is driving me mad!" That hurt. That really did hurt. I'm afraid that if I try to speak I'll start sobbing. So I can't even try to interrupt Misty's flaming tirade, while fingers of ice squeeze my heart tighter with each blasphemous word. "I said I was fine, so listen! Don't keep creeping closer like some demented stalker just itching to possess me. Just get out of my sight, out of my mind, my space, my face!" This time I'm the one to turn away, fighting a losing battle to control my jaw. Every note rains down like a blow, and I've no strength left to withstand such an assault. "Do you think that you've got special dispensation to be my shadow? Some sort of privilege to see every part of me? No? Well then, why don't you do me a favour, and fuck off out of my life!" I have to squeeze my eyelids tightly shut as she barks the last few words, with a tone of contempt and disgust I've never heard grace her melodious voice before. It reminded me of a glass breaking, of something that once was never being the same again. For some time, all that can be heard is her ragged breathing gently easing, until it is inaudible. Only then do I turn around again, once I feel like I have some control over my face. Her cheeks are burning red, still damp and dirty, eyes smouldering. And my control is rapidly evaporating.  
  
"Okay, I'll go." I honestly wouldn't know it was I who were saying these words if I were to hear them again. My voice is rough and desperate, little more than a choking whisper. And I can't say any more. I let my face drop, long fringe shielding my eyes from her view, and start to walk away.  
  
"Ash....." I pause, and look back over my shoulder. Misty is still stood in the same place, but her aqua orbs have changed from portrayers of boiling fury into viscid pools of despair. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing emerges. I hold her gaze for just a heartbeat longer, but then turn away again.  
  
"I understand Misty. I'll leave you be for tonight. See you tomorrow." With that gravely statement, I'm off into the trees, leaving her standing alone and silent. While I look for a place this evening, when the night is drawing in, where I can cry myself to sleep unheard.  
  
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Well, that's all for now. See you sooner next time (Hopefully)!  
  
Dan 


	9. Sorrow and Sausages!

At last! This chapter took me waaay too long! Well, it's done now, thank goodness, and I've got my writers block well and truly dislodged for the time being.  
  
Huge hugs to Cultnirvana, her eternal patience has been invaluable, as always. Beta-reading, chatting and the occasional kick to get me going!  
  
Big thanks to Faith, Grocko, MistyMew, Joy-Girl, Asuka and dragoness for your reviews, I'm sorry I kept you waiting. Please don't kill me!  
  
Well, on with the show.  
  
Where the River Flows, Chapter IX  
  
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23rd July - Evening. Another day gone by. Nothing seems to be different. I am sorry, my diary, that I have not written in you earlier. But seconds melt into minutes, melt into hours, melt into days. I know I should've made my choice today. But I didn't. I saw a way out, and took it. Now tomorrow awaits, the 24th. And it's going to be decided one way or the other.  
  
I wish that tomorrow would never come. Perhaps I should seek a way to prevent it's arrival.....  
  
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This must be a dream.  
  
This MUST be a dream.  
  
This must be just a very bad dream. A very, very bad dream!  
  
Yet if this is a dream, why do the cuts on my hand scorch so?  
  
If this is a dream, why does guilt hang so heavily, like some anchor, around my neck?  
  
If this is just my imagination, why is everything so real?  
  
This is no dream.  
  
This is reality.  
  
A reality of what has just occurred. The trust built up now smashed on the floor; a glass dropped by uncaring hands.  
  
The friendship, ripped to shreds by cruel words, like fine silk ruined by vicious knives.  
  
The love, love? Yes, love, dismissed the way a king may disown a servant, with such disdain, like the servile one was not even human.  
  
And who performed each of these heinous acts?  
  
I did.  
  
Because I'm a bitch. A waster. An ugly, bitter, venomous rat.  
  
Ash was the best thing I ever had. He was the best thing about me. My better half, almost. Almost. He would have been, I know, I know, I never accepted it before. All this destruction because of something I never admitted. Not even to myself. The truth sat there. Hidden, as the letter one never wants to open, while all the time knowing the words within. That's all they were. Words.  
  
But words with such weight.  
  
'I Love You.'  
  
Yes, I heard them. I heard his reply to my mind's betrayal, back in that hotel room. But it was banned from thought. And that was why it tore at me. I wanted to hear those words. I wanted to know beyond doubt. I wanted to tell him again my love for him, tell him how much I wanted, no, desired, no, even needed him. Tell him that I love him, far, far more than I love myself. More than anything.  
  
But I betrayed myself.  
  
Shock shut the facts away. Masochism kept them banished. The part of me that doesn't want me to be happy. That wants me to curl up and die. That tells me, time and time again, that I'm not worth the air I breathe.  
  
The part of me I hoped I left behind many, many years ago. The part that made me a preteen runaway, a hopeless drifter, the runt of the litter.  
  
I laugh ironically to myself at the memory, sitting down carelessly. I found later that people had a million theories, all over the town, as to why I left without a backward glance. One was that the constant bitchiness of my three older sisters had driven me crazy. One was I wasn't ready for the limelight, being the youngest of such a famous group of talented performers. One was that I wanted to make my own way. Another said I had a dream, something to aspire to alone. My favourite one was that I had been abducted, and was about to be held to ransom.  
  
None of these were true.  
  
I wasn't driven out by bickering; I left as I could do nothing. I didn't leave through publicity, as no light is worth shining on me. I didn't leave to make my own way; I left to find a way out that day. I left with one burning desire, the wish to make life's light expire.  
  
As for abduction, that was too laughable to be true. Come on, if someone wanted cash, they'd steal something or someone that is worth something to someone. As it was, I don't know why I was sat by the riverside when I was. I don't know why I was fishing. I wanted to throw myself into the surging current, and commit my soul to the water spirit to do with as She pleases.  
  
But I was, once again, weak. I couldn't. So, I was hoping that something far more powerful than I would grasp the end of the line, and drag me into the river. I wanted fate, fortune or luck to do it for me. As I couldn't do it myself.  
  
But then the water spirit threw me a second chance.  
  
In the form of a boy with a half-drowned Pikachu who stole the bike I'd stolen from my sisters, and shot off with it. Why I didn't just shrug it off I don't know, hell, a bike was no good to me where I wanted to go. But perhaps fortune just nudged me in the right direction. The idea just popped into my head.  
  
He's stolen my bike. My bike. It may have been Lilly's, but now it is mine. And I want it back.  
  
Looking back, it was the best irrational decision I ever made. And that argument was the worst.  
  
I was thrown a lifeline when I was about to drown. An angel in human form. And now, I've just forced him away. Taken the ticket to happiness presented to me and tore it to shreds.  
  
There's not even the little voice of the mind, which, in the darkest of winters, still speaks of the light. The one that should be telling me it's not all over, that I still have hope. I can't hear it.  
  
So, what now? I ignore the tears cascading down my face, and the loud, choking sobs which may as well be silent echoes. They don't matter. The trees, just insignificant details. The very world merely a platform, something below notice. The one thing that matters has gone. Not just for tonight. Things will never be the same.  
  
His undying, unwavering devotion mattered.  
  
Now it is gone.  
  
Now, nothing matters.  
  
Nothing. Not the trees, the people, the world itself.  
  
Nothing. I do not matter.  
  
Nothing.  
  
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A smell on the breeze. Scent riding upon the wind. A delicate fragrance flowing in the warm night air. I would know what it was; who it was if I'd had my nose filled with cement. It's my trainer, my companion, my friend, my brother. Ash. Yet what is he doing? I can't smell anyone else, he must be many meters from the camp. I would guess that he wanted time on his own, but why? Then it strikes me, clear as day. He's looking for me. And if he's looking for me, something is very, very wrong. A gentle sob is carried to my ears on the wind, and the thought crystallises. Yes. He's in trouble.  
  
("Ash?") The faint footfalls stop, the newfound silence pierced by a crackling cough.  
  
"Cyndaquil?" I head towards the arid voice, lighting my fire quills to send a vague glow out among the pine trees, a beacon for a lost soul to find. The crunching of a few twigs announces his arrival, and we lock eyes. Trying to read the story that has yet to be told without the concealment of words. Sometimes words can be misread, sometimes they can be false. And, as I grow heavy from the leaden sadness I see within him, I remember that sometimes, words are not enough.  
  
("What is it?") Sometimes, there are no words.  
  
"I, I, Misty....." He slumps down beside me, casting fluid brown eyes down.  
  
("Ash, what happened? Why are you like this?") He twirls a lock of hair around his fingers, still looking away.  
  
"We, had a. A fight." My sadness is becoming shock, almost that of horror. In all my years at his side, I have never, ever seen such a change in my friend.  
  
("Why? What about?") I raise my fire a little to see him more clearly. His face is shadowed, skeletal, lifeless.  
  
"Uh, just over nothing." Another twirl of the raven hair.  
  
("Big nothing, you're in a real state!") He glances away, left hand still working relentlessly through the black strands that are dropping down to his shoulders.  
  
"Well, uh." Silence now, barely even a leaf wavering in the summer night.  
  
("Come on, what went on. You didn't travel away from camp looking for me to just sit and play with your hair.") Just the tiniest hint of anger in my tone sparks him into response.  
  
"As it happens, I didn't come looking for you. I've been walking around since, oh, this afternoon! So don't make it seem like I'm honour-bound to explain!" I wince as his voice cracks at such a simple sentence.  
  
("Then why are you here? Why so far away?")  
  
"I wanted to give myself some space, and....." He tries to look me in the eye, but fails, hazel sight instead fluttering around the woods and brush, anywhere but at me. He's holding on with his very fingertips to control, in a last-ditch effort to conceal weakness. It's natural for him to try, everyone does, hoping against hope they don't have to re-live what has passed. Concealing the truth isn't always just to prevent another knowing weakness, it can be to avoid the agonies of the experience all over again. But I can't let him shut this away, it would only lead to self-destruction. So, just one little word to break his grasp, let him fall.....  
  
("And?")  
  
"And....." His searching eyes shut, a tear running from each one. "To find somewhere to sleep, and.....to SCREAM!" My heart leaps at the sudden explosion of noise, and I watch with building fear and concern as Ash grabs his face with his hands and almost shrieks, a noise made out of anger, dread, sadness, loss, one incomparable to any other yet recognisable to any who have suffered some great tragedy. A sound I care not to remember, but will hear on many a dark and angry night, deep in my dreams.  
  
("Calm down! Shush!") My words may as well be a whisper on the breeze, my friend still howls like some lone wolf, mourning the death of his mate. Out of panic, I do the only thing I can thing of, and drop my fire intensity to let fly a massive stream of smoke at him. For a second the horrific, keening sound continues, but then splutters to an abrupt halt as the smoke reaches deep down into his chest, and clenches it tightly within it's nebulous grasp. I stop the smoke stream, and wait for the cloud to dissipate, and Ash to stop spluttering. A brief zephyr brushes around us, helping to clear the air. After a few moments, I raise the lights again.  
  
He doesn't look too happy.  
  
("Sorry. But I had no choice.") I inwardly cringe as his watering eyes fix on me, body still heaving after inhaling so much smoke.  
  
"You did."  
  
("Like?") He falters, this time memory catching his breath. Those eyes lose their focus, resuming their wandering. I preferred it when he was staring at me.  
  
"Ah, forget it. It's not like it'll change anything. Maybe if I'd choked for long enough it'd be a solution."  
  
("What do you mean by that?") I'm genuinely puzzled. He can't mean what I think he does. Can he?  
  
"Well I don't know, maybe since I've just lost my reason to breathe, it's pointless to inhale really." I feel myself bristle, and a tiny flame of anger ignite.  
  
("So you're saying that I'm not good enough? That without Misty you don't care for anyone? Is that all I, Chikorita, Pikachu mean to you?!") My normally high voice is raising yet more in pitch with every word, as my own angst rises up like bile.  
  
"I, I - "  
  
("We've given our lives to you, as friends, one to another. Now it seems I have made a stupid mistake, my faith was misplaced in the hands of one who, who would drop their burden soon as he feels pain!") I yell the last few words vehemently, willing them to strike hard as a fist on my friend.  
  
"Please, please don't shout, I can't take any more....." Soon as the words do strike, I regret them passing my lips. Ash's face, well, the finest artist in the world couldn't paint a more sorrowful picture.  
  
("I'm sorry.") I pause, and think for a second. ("For shouting, I mean. But I don't take away what I said.") I fix him with a piercing look. ("If you're going to give up on your dreams, give up on 'our' dreams for this, well, I wish you the worst.")  
  
"You don't understand. You don't." The hoarse reply only gives me my chance.  
  
("So why? Why don't I understand, Ash?!") I pile on the indignant tone, hoping he'll snap. ("Since I'm so blind that I can't quite see why you can't go on with your life! Your dreams! Why do you need some girl who can break you with one word, do untold damage through spite and anger?") His head snaps up to attention, with an icy look upon it.  
  
"Why? I'll tell you why! It's because all of my dreams include her!" He gets to his feet, gesturing wildly with his hands as he speaks. " Same as me, you, Pikachu, she's a part of everything! I want to collect the master trophy with her at my side, to survive the elite with her cheering me on, to defeat the champion with her arm in mine!" I think he realises what he's saying as his anger cools a bit, and he sits back down, voice turning reflective. "If we were to go on and succeed without her, it'd be like something was missing, you know? I'd look at what we'd won, and not think of how much we'd achieved, but of how she wasn't there to congratulate us. I mean, when it comes down to it, what good is pleasure without someone else to share it with?" I move to speak, but he picks up the question himself. "I know we'd celebrate with one another, as friends and team- mates, but how would you feel if Chikorita walked out and left us to battle without her?"  
  
("Oh, uh. I think I get what you mean.") Yes, I think I do. I let my thoughts digest in silence along with his, as the half-moon peers out from between the trees, perhaps curious as to why we are disturbing her peaceful voyage once again.  
  
"Misty is, well, a part of me, y'know?" The raven-haired one picks up an errant leaf and examines it, voice growing tight once more. "Same as, well, the tree may survive the passing of a leaf, but it will never be quite the same ever again. Something is lost, and lost forever." He discards the leaf, and sinks back until he is lain flat, staring at the sky. "But the tree can grow new leaves. Given time, be it a week or a year, the leaf can be replaced. Or there are so many that the impact is not great.....I don't believe that I could replace her. She's why I grow." I stay silent, taking in the fresh anguish in my guardian's voice, the sheen of the moon glowing upon his moist face. "She's not a leaf, a flower, a branch, she's my, well, my roots. Kinda un-romantic, huh? I wish I could've thought of a more beautiful thing to call her."  
  
("Well, why couldn't you?") I prod, hoping to keep this going. It's moving me deeply, his soliloquy, but I try to stay neutral. Perhaps it's my greatest fault, being so analytical. But this is not the time or the place to consider that.  
  
"I guess, I guess that I just couldn't think of anything. Heh, things of beauty are usually just for display, but she's got so much more than just beauty." As his voice turns from sad to wistful, I decide to seize the moment.  
  
("So, why are you agonising here with me? Why have you even left the camp? Why aren't you there trying to sort things out?") He's not looking at me, but he seems to be deep in thought nonetheless. ("If Misty is all you see her to be, you should be trying to patch things up with her, not talking to me.")  
  
"She told me to get out of he life. It's not a little statement you can ignore." His response, predictably flippant, only encourages me.  
  
("Don't you think that a little thing called anger might have something to do with it?")  
  
"I don't think anger could be responsible for that." Ash sighs, still gazing starward. "She seemed just a little too --- definite."  
  
("So, anger couldn't be responsible for you screaming your head off a few minutes back?") I add a snide element of my own, to press the point.  
  
"It wasn't anger alone, Cyndaquil!" Ash doesn't get up, but I know he's snapping back at me. "It was confusion, pressure, sadness..... too many things to recount."  
  
("So what says that she couldn't have been feeling all those things herself?") Ash looks thoughtful.  
  
"Well, she hadn't just been screamed at and abused by her first, and only love. That's a big reason." He answers. I realise how truly ignorant he is, ignorant of what is going on under his very eyes. Well, maybe it isn't all his fault, what with being pre-occupied about Misty in the first place, having the Hazel situation dropped on him from point-blank range and trying to deal with a civil war between two pairs of his friends. Seems like I need to educate him.  
  
("She's having enough problems as it is.") I take a deep breath, preparing to explain. I wish I wasn't the bearer of bad news, but better to light a candle than curse the darkness. ("One, she's got an exam in a week, which she feels like she can't pass. Two, she's being pulled apart by Hazel and her story, she doesn't really know if she's responsible, deep down. Three, she doesn't know what to do with you, since she's really confused by what is going on. Four.....") He's really not going to like this, but I have to say it. I don't know if anyone else has figured it out, but.....  
  
"What?" The prone figure sounds anxious, as if he already knows, or has guessed that this point will be bad, somehow.  
  
("Four, well, you know that recently Misty has been going for 'walks' or 'baths' after dinner most nights?") Ash nods from his reclined position.  
  
"Yeah. I thought there was always odd about that. When she came back from walks she still seemed cool, and after bathing there was definitely still some scent upon her body, something sour, that I could never define - Oh, no, it can't be true....." The coin has just dropped.  
  
("It is. I've checked it out a few times since we left the last town, and every time my suspicions were founded.") I take a deep breath, preparing to spill the truth. ("Misty has been sticking her fingers down her throat. After most meals, she steals away, and brings whatever she's eaten back up. Consistently, for a while now.") Ash props himself up on one elbow, so he can stare at me.  
  
"Why, if you knew all this, why didn't you tell me?" He speaks desperately, with accusation heavy in the tone. "Why wait until now, when things have changed so much?"  
  
("I don't know, I can't answer.") It's true, I can't. I have no valid reason for this concealment. ("But I guess I was hoping that this would resolve itself without you needing to know. I didn't want to trouble you, and look where that silly idea has got me.") Up shit creek, that's where.  
  
"Misty....." Ash's elbow gives way, and he lands in a state of abject shock. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't I see what was going on right under my eyes?"  
  
("I didn't see Hazel's story coming either. Come on Ash, the hardest things to see in life are the ones right under your nose. We all know that.") He still looks as guilty as one who had unwittingly committed all seven deadly sins in one night.  
  
"There's no excuse-" I interrupt brusquely, sensing his mood.  
  
("Why do you need an excuse? You're not responsible! You're no mind reader, you're not psychic, you're not her guardian angel either!") I let my fire quills flare up in emphasis. ("Don't blame yourself for this. If you've got something you should apologise for, it's not following up your real ideals. You want Misty. Want her more than success, than victory. If that was what mattered to you now, you wouldn't have cared who you celebrated with.") I soften my sound now, sensing that my message has got through. ("What you have is too much to waste or too deep to skim over. Don't let it die Ash, please. Don't let it die. There is too much to live for to let this love sink below the surface. Stand up. Go to her, take her simple words of anger and bemusement. It's the blood that runs through your veins, this love, the heart which pumps within you. Live it. Please, for her sake, your sake, and mine. I don't think I could stand myself if I sat and watched all this slip away.") The last letter of my impassioned speech fades to nothingness, but I can feel the impact resonating all around me. I just gaze into the middle distance for a few minutes as I calm down, before looking to my companion. Any guilt in Ash's face has gone, replaced by introspection. Good. I allow myself a smile of self-congratulation. Which turns into a whole body yawn, starting from somewhere around my feet and rising like The Phoenix from it's ashes.  
  
"Tired, huh?" My friend sits slowly upright, tiredness clearly visible in his expression. "Me toooo-." Words blending seamlessly into a yawn, he reaches up to rub his bleary eyes.  
  
("You'd better get back to camp.") I mutter, shaking my head to try to postpone sleep.  
  
"Nah, it's late, I'm tired, and I probably wouldn't find my way back now." He lays down on his back again, lids growing heavy. "Besides, it's no more comfortable there, still sleeping on the ground." His eyes close slowly, and I feel mine following suit, my resistance ending. He murmurs a few final words as I'm suspended between awareness and the coma of sleep. "'Sides, I think it's best to give Misty the place to herself when she wakes up....."  
  
("Well she never has been a morning person.....") I breathe in reply, just as the scales of consciousness tip to replace the waking world with the land of dreams.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------  
  
It's mid-morning now, and I'm panicking. Here at the camp, if you can call a random piece of woodland that, we're all set to go. Well, we being myself, Pikachu, Hazel and Misty. And that's the problem. We are Ash-less. Devoid of even a hint of Ketchum. And that leaves us in the long grass.  
  
("Misty, you sure you don't know where he is?!") I growl quietly as Pikachu asks the same question she has every forty-two seconds for the last hour and a half.  
  
"No." And the same answer. I don't know what happened yesterday. But it's bad.  
  
("But you were with him last, didn't he say?") Obviously not, else Misty would know, you pillock.  
  
"No. He didn't seem to know himself." That's one thing that makes me sure something has been said or done. Ash and Misty always know where each other are. Living in each other's pockets for six years is the main reason, along with their mutual affection. It's sort of like a security thing, even if they don't know where they're located, they're never truly lost when they're with each other. As I study every nuance of Misty's expression, between the scowl she seems to wear permanently now and faint lines of stress, I can see her aquamarine eyes searching. Reaching out for something they can't find, fumbling in the dark.  
  
("Well, I guess we just keep waiting then.") Pikachu shrugs and goes back to counting leaves, ears perked for the sound of approach. Silence once again settles, like mist over a meadow.  
  
"Ah, to hell with it, I'm going to have a swim." Hazel dives into her bag, withdraws her sky-blue swimming gear and a towel, and scoots off towards the nearby river. Seems like she's nervous as well. Pikachu watches her go idly, as a change from watching trees. Since we're all avoiding each other's eyes, it's tricky to find something interesting to look at. But I really want something to keep my mind off the possibility that Ash might be doing a Cyndaquil.  
  
("Well, someone sure needs a lesson in patience.") Pikachu chuckles quietly, as we listen for the usual noises made when Hazel decides to go swimming. Not much for a minute or so, then a massive splash followed by a high-pitched shriek. She never bothers checking the temperature of the river before dive-bombing it. Although I doubt that it'd make much difference if she did.  
  
"Uh, sorry I'm late." I jump ten feet in the air and spin around to see a tall figure standing only a few yards away, sheepish smile on his face.  
  
("Ash!") I hurl myself at him, and feel Pikachu joining suit as we both crash into his arms, bowling him over.  
  
("God, I was so worried! I didn't know where you'd gone!") I can sense the unspoken question from Pikachu, the one I was dreading the answer of. 'I didn't know if you were coming back.....'  
  
"Hey, you didn't think I'd leave you all alone did you?" He hugs the both of us tightly, before we get off and allow him to stand up. He looks over to Misty. "Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Uh, how you feeling?" Both Ash and Misty seem to have turned to stone, expressions immovable as the strongest Oak.  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Good."  
  
Silence, once again. Then.....  
  
"Have we still got any sausages?" My dark-eyed friend gestures towards the pile of bags heaped against a willow. "I haven't had any breakfast yet, and my stomach doesn't like that fact one bit."  
  
("Yeah.") Pikachu goes rummaging through the bags, emerging with some. They've just about gone off, since it's pretty hot, but so long as they're cooked properly they're still edible. Well, for someone who really likes them, I'm not much of a meat person.  
  
"Good. I'll get a fire started." A few minutes of twig collection and some very deft lighting work later, there is a merry little blaze crackling away, saucepan, holding a few large pink sausages, sat delicately atop it.  
  
("Where did you go last night?") Ash ceases poking the cooking food, and looks down to me.  
  
"Nowhere special." I don't know if it's due to Misty's close proximity or just he doesn't want me to know, but he's keeping his cards close to his chest.  
  
"Do I smell food?" Hazel appears pretty much on cue, undoubtedly drawn by the cooking scents wafting on the wind. Wearing a pretty short towel. Seems like she didn't think Ash would be here when she got back, judging by two facts:  
  
One, she hasn't re-dressed, and  
  
Two, she's just glomped him quite impressively, causing him to end up flat on his back for the second time in five minutes. The fact that he's just been pounced on by an apparently naked girl wearing what is little more than a flannel isn't lost on Ash either, judging by the glow emerging rapidly on his cheeks. Especially when she gets off him, and her makeshift clothing smoothly slips off. By the time it hits the floor he's wheeled around to face the other way, hands over eyes and saying every apology he can think of at great speed.  
  
("You're evil, you know that?") I hear Pikachu chortling gleefully, and turn to look at Hazel, Ash doing the same. To see Hazel wearing a big smile.....and her two-piece swimming costume.  
  
"I know. But I've been waiting for days to pull that trick on him." Hazel looks up at Ash coyly, and slips him a wink. "But don't worry Ashy-boy, next time the show might be no-holds-barred, only for you of course!" I stare at her, mouth flapping soundless as a Magikarp's as she flounces off to get changed properly.  
  
"The scariest thing is that she would." Ash mumbles, sinking down to deal with the now browning sausages. I agree silently. Hazel is quite comfortable showing off her body. Even to extremes, if I hadn't been alert the other day, she would've walked out stark naked on Ash while he was training me to swim better. She said that she'd not known we were there (lie), that she always took a bath without anything on (lie) and also that Ash had been spying on her before (lie, well, I think so. Hope so too.) I really don't get why. Is she's trying to provoke something from Ash? Does she just like to show off? Or is it something deeper? I can't say.  
  
("I know.") Something in my mind nags me that something was wrong in that whole scene. Can't pin it down.  
  
"Well, they're almost done. I wonder if Misty would like some." Misty. Of course! She didn't make a sound the whole time Hazel was blatantly flirting with Ash, she didn't make a sound. I'd expect her to be spitting bullets!  
  
("I'll ask her.") I scurry past Pikachu, who is burrowing through the bags in search of ketchup, no doubt, and to Misty who is leaning against a pine with a faraway look. ("Ash wants to know if you want some brunch.")  
  
"Uh, no, I'm not hungry." I shrug to myself, and move back to Ash.  
  
("She's not hungry.") He blinks slowly, before speaking cautiously, eyes still on the sizzling pan.  
  
"Did she have any breakfast?" I think back with care, through the morning's activities.  
  
("Nope, don't think so.") Ash nods once before looking up.  
  
"Hey Misty, what did you have for breakfast?" The red-haired one is rattled out of her daze, seeming surprised at Ash's voice in her direction.  
  
"Uh, well....." She looks from me to Pikachu, and back to me again. "Nothing much, really."  
  
"So do you fancy some now? These sausages are done." He takes the saucepan from the fire, and spears each one of it's fat passengers carefully before sliding them off his fork onto a waiting plate.  
  
"Nah, no thanks." Misty seems wary as she watches Ash put out the fire, and prises the ketchup bottle from Pikachu's determined hold.  
  
"Ah, go on. We've got a long day of travelling to come, don't want you feeling faint do we?" Ash pours some of the thick red syrup onto a side of the plate, puts the bottle down, and proffers them up to her. She takes a step forward, hesitates, and then takes two back.  
  
"Really, it's okay. I don't fancy meat right now, the smell is putting me off." Her nostrils twitch as she speaks, like she's sniffing the air. Sounds fair to me.  
  
"Ignore that, it's the fat in the pan." Ash picks one of the four darkened links up, dips the end in the pool of sauce and takes a bite. "Tastes pretty good to me."  
  
"Nah." Misty eyes the plate with a curious mix of expressions. Half revulsion, half desire. Strange.  
  
"Come on, take one!" Ash takes a second bite from his impromptu breakfast before leaning towards Misty with the dish held out before him. "They'll go cold if you don't. Besides, you'll feel sick if you don't eat in this weather." He almost seems to spell out the last sentence, still leaning forward with an inviting smile. I gaze skywards, fully in agreement when I see a blue canopy once again hovering above me.  
  
("Yeah, he's right. Hurry up and take one before Hazel comes back and scoffs the lot.") Ash smiles and nods in assent.  
  
"See, I'm not that crazy, am I?" Misty shudders, despite the growing heat as the sun rises high into the sky. She casts a searching glance around the camp, fixing on Pikachu and me for a moment, before returning attention to Ash.  
  
"Why don't you offer them to the Pokemon first? I'm sure they're hungry." My companion sighs quietly, and turns his head to me.  
  
"Fancy brunch?" Even though I already know that I don't, something in Ash's gaze warns me that yes is not the answer he wants to hear.  
  
("No, I'm good.") He smiles faintly, before calling to Pikachu.  
  
"How about you?" Pikachu, who is half-way down the neglected ketchup bottle, stops and nods once. Ash flips her a sausage with a little more force than I would've predicted, and it bounces off her nose before she manages to catch it while juggling with her sauce-filled container. "Don't forget that's the last sauce we have until we hit civilisation. When it's gone you're back on the wagon." She ignores the warning, and proceeds to try and force the sausage through the neck of the bottle, despite the bottle being about two sizes too small, to dip it in the ketchup still remaining.  
  
("Damn. It's stuck.") Pikachu tries to pull the securely lodged sausage from the hole, and only succeeds in breaking it in half, with one half ending in her paws and the other filling the bottle neck. She studies the situation for a second, and then growls in annoyance. ("To coin a phrase, shit.")  
  
"Well, that leaves two." Ash tears his eyes away from the Pokemon versus bottle confrontation and back onto Misty. "What do you say one each?"  
  
"I say fine." Hazel breezes back into the group and snatches a sausage from the plate, taking a monstrous bite from it as she goes to pack away her costume and towels. Ash casts a furious look at her back before returning to the matter in hand, or should I say, on plate.  
  
"Go on Misty, it's yours." She backs away, pale face anxious.  
  
"No, really. You made them, you eat them."  
  
"I made them for all of us. Take it." Misty leans gradually towards the last remaining link, reaches out, and then draws her hand away quickly. Her empty hand.  
  
"Ash, I don't want it! Really!" She moans, eyes tense. Ash returns her look, seemingly calm. But I can just trace a hint of worry within his brown irises. "You said you were hungry, so you need the food more than I do. I'm fine." She sounds convincing, but I notice she breaks eye contact as she speaks.  
  
"Please Misty, have something to eat." Ash's voice now holds a pleading element to it, almost begging Misty to accept. I'm nonplussed as to why he's so determined she accept. Probably he doesn't want her feeling weak for today's journey.  
  
"Ash, uh, I..." A rare stroke of wind carries the scent of the food, albeit now beginning to congeal, through the air once more, and Misty seems to snap. "Okay, give it here."  
  
"Sure thing." Ash smiles as Misty grasps the sausage, looks at him, and then devours it in a flash.  
  
"Happy now?" She huffs, looking nauseous. Ash just nods in answer.  
  
"Hey, got any more food?" Hazel calls, finally closing up her bag.  
  
("Nope, all gone.") I answer cheerfully.  
  
"Damn, that first one was tasty too." She grumbles, pushing chocolate hair away from her eyes.  
  
"Okay people, everyone set?" Ash calls, stamping out the remains of the fire and dousing the ashes with water.  
  
"Hang on Ash, I need to go to the toilet, won't be long." Misty answers cheerfully, heading towards some thicker vegetation.  
  
"Okay Misty, but you've got one minute. I want to get moving, so if you're away a second longer I'm coming after you. Whatever you may be doing at the time." He means it too. We must be behind schedule or something.  
  
"Whose fault is it that we're late starting anyway?" Misty calls out angrily in response, wheeling around to face the black-haired one.  
  
"I know, but I want to make up for lost time, starting now." Misty takes a step back towards him, frustration flaring in her stare.  
  
"Maybe I'll take my own good time, to make you wait like you made us!" She growls, glowering out from under her orange bangs.  
  
"Well as I said, after a minute I'm coming after you and hauling you out. That's a promise." A war of words passes unsaid between them for a taut second before she turns and stalks off into deeper cover. Ash watches her go for a second, before turning to the rest of us. I'm guessing that both Hazel and Pikachu are as perplexed as I am about this sudden turn of mood. "And that goes for all of us." He continues, still in the same cold tone. "I wanted to do another mile yesterday and one already this morning, so we're going to have to keep stops to a minimum and quick until we break for some lunch. It's the twentieth today, we've only got three days left until Misty's exam, I want to get to Cerulean tomorrow. Right?"  
  
"Yes, okay, okay, I get it." Hazel grouches, picking up her new khaki satchel. "It's a good thing I'm pleased to see you, else I'd give you hell all morning for being such a fuss-budget."  
  
"Well, that's settled." Ash heaves his bag onto his shoulders, staggers sideways for a second, then adjusts to the weight. He glances down at his watch, and calls out "Ten seconds!"  
  
"I'm here, I'm here!" Misty crashes her way back into the clearing. "You could've given me more than a minute, I'm not a guy for crying out loud!"  
  
"Of course. It's pretty obvious, y'know?" She doesn't know what to say to that suggestive comment, so she just snarls under her breath while closing her own bag and easing it onto her shoulders, legs bowing dangerously as she does so.  
  
"Why don't they have to carry something?" Hazel gestures first to Pikachu, then to me.  
  
"Ever tried designing a backpack for someone with four legs?" Ash responds casually. I smile sweetly up at Hazel just to emphasise the point.  
  
("We did have some in the past, but they were hard to fit, and kept breaking whenever I walked above a slow trot. Besides, it's not like I'm big enough to carry anything anyway.")  
  
("And I am carrying something.") Pikachu adds, lifting up a clear bottle that half-full of a red liquid and still stoppered by a thick roll of meat.  
  
"Girls, come on, we're off." Misty calls to us, as she moves after Ash's already darkening figure that is moving through the trees.  
  
"Let's go." Hazel paces after Misty, with me at her side and Pikachu still fighting with the bottle behind us. I sigh in pleasure as a cooling wind begins to get up, signalling that we are beginning to get close to the Cerulean Sea. I glance up at my friend, who is struggling with a shoulder strap, and a cheeky smile pinching my mouth.  
  
("You know, it feels so good to have the breeze on your back.")  
  
"..."  
  
("It makes me feel so light.")  
  
"..."  
  
("Almost as if you're walking free.")  
  
"..."  
  
("It seems to take the weight of the world off your shoulders.")  
  
"...You want to shut the hell up?!"  
  
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Don't forget to R&R, in the next chapter the diary writer is revealed, and things start heating up again!  
  
Dan. 


	10. Progressions

Hi, It's me again! I would go on about how sorry I am about the wait, but I'm sure you're all sick of that, so I'm gonna skip it. Besides, this chapter is over 12,000 words, so it should be enough to make up for it.  
  
Huge thanks and hugs to Karen, as always, for keeping me on the straight and narrow and making this legible. Also thanks to all you kind reviewers, I'm glad you're all still interested.  
  
Enough of my twittering, on with the story.  
  
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Where the River Flows, Chapter X  
  
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24th July:- I love you.  
  
Goodbye.  
  
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"But wat if I don't make it? What if I flunk?" I glare up at Ash as he looks down at where I'm sat on the ground.  
  
"You won't, I trust you. You need to trust yourself." I bat away his helping hand and pick myself up shakily, bringing my revision book with me.  
  
"Every minute counts, I can't just waste time. I've wasted enough as it is." I re-open the book and begin scanning the page.  
  
"But you can't trek through a forest with a book in your face. That's twice you've tripped over tree roots." I don't bother listening, just going through a few more Magikarp bits and pieces. "Besides, what's so wrong if you don't make it? Sheez, I achieved my goal at the third attempt! So long as you don't give up you never lose."  
  
("He's right Misty.") Pikachu pipes up from behind me, far too cheerily. ("We've been beaten too many times to count. But keep on coming back. No reason for you not to do the same if you don't get there this time.") I don't really want to hear this. But the words are getting blurry, and stumbling yet again, I give in to the inevitable, and slide the book into a side-pocket of my backpack.  
  
"My family history has never accepted failure, no matter what." No-one seems to hear that, so I go back to musing the morning. Damn him, damn Ash. Why didn't he just force the food down my throat by hand and have done with it? I was doing so well too. It'd been twenty-four hours plus since I'd last ate, I was going to get to lunch at least. And then being such a bastard about us leaving straight away. Trying to not give me time to get rid of my stomach's unwanted occupant. If I didn't know better, I'd think he did. But I'm sure he suspects. Thankfully he doesn't know I didn't swallow the food, just stored it like a hamster in the cheek he couldn't see and spat it out when I went out of the camp.  
  
"You all okay?" The man in question turns around and looks first to me, then past me to the others languishing behind. I take it as a mark of victory that, despite my meagre diet, I manage to leave them in my wake. Through hunger and exhaustion still keeping pace, a real example of victory. Mind you, he really is pushing ahead today, and I'm starting to lag myself.  
  
("Just.") Pikachu huffs, trailing a few yards back with her sauce bottle dragging from one arm.  
  
"If I said I wasn't, would it make any difference?" Hazel whines pathetically from much further away, Chikorita breathing heavily as well.  
  
"Not much." Ash replies cheerily, returning to his walking. I could kill him. Breezes into the group this morning, acting like nothing has happened. Like it was only a little spat. Like a night of fitful sleep is enough to heal the wounds.  
  
Like everything was perfectly normal.  
  
Is it hell. My world shook with the force of that explosion. Leaving rubble and ashes. The fact I pushed the button is irrelevant. I doesn't matter who lit the fuse in the first place when the bomb goes off. I settle back into my walking daze, gaze fixed on Ash's backside. It makes sure I don't get lost, and it's also worth watching.  
  
("Misty, put your tongue back in.") Pikachu snorts, having caught me up.  
  
"It's not out. Why don't you go back to trying to outwit your sausage?" She gives me a look which could kill, and drops back again.  
  
"Good stuff guys, we're getting there. Another half-hour and we'll stop for lunch." Ash says loudly, brushing a few twigs aside. He lets go of them as I reach the branch in question, and they spring back to smack me in the face. Bastard!  
  
"Thank you Ash, I needed that." He cranes around to see me, the obvious question on his face. I just shake my head and say "it's nothing" and go back to hiking in silence. We are getting close to Cerulean, I've felt the breeze that comes off the sea on my face since we started travelling this morning. Yet at the moment, it feels so far away. I almost wish I would never reach my hometown. It's the toss of a coin, what will happen. Pass or fail, it's impossible for me to say. I haven't done enough revision lately, not since Hazel barged into my life. Either too tired, to ill or too distracted. Or just plain busy. Or maybe there was some other reason I don't want to accept.  
  
("Yes!") Pikachu chirrups in success and I look back to her. She's poked the offending meat roll occluding the bottleneck right through into the body of the bottle, freeing the way for sauce to flow. She upends the bottle, grinning in anticipation. The smile turns rapidly into a scowl again as the sausage slides down ahead of the sauce and lodges neatly in the bottle neck once again.  
  
"Pride comes before a fall....." I call to her, taking pleasure from the further darkening of her expression in response. Returning to the matter of walking, I notice Ash has pushed ahead and up the pace to catch him. I don't know if it's my mind wandering or the heat, but everything seems sort of vague at the moment. Like looking through someone else's glasses at the world, objects are there but not clearly defined. Fatigue rests heavy on my shoulders and I rub my face briskly to shake it off.  
  
"Here comes the sun, doo do do dooo, here comes the sun and I say, it's alright....." My raven-haired love starts singing idly, and only half in tune as he follows the path, making hefting a heavy bag look easy. Mine is starting to drag me back, I'm having real trouble keeping up. My stomach gurgles in complaint at my ignorance of it's needs for a moment before lapsing back into silence. To quell the growing boredom and take my mind off hunger, I start quizzing myself on common injuries to Marril. I get to dislocated tail joint before a bout of dizziness causes me to stop for a second. It goes as quickly as it arrived, but I reach around to grab my water bottle nonetheless. I twist the top off the blue container, spit out the cloying mucus stuck in my mouth and take a long draw. Receiving only a mouthful of air. Nuts. I spin the cap back on but decide to keep the bottle to hand, just in case. Not sure what case. Looking back up, it seems that Ash is still keeping his pace up, now further in front of me. Also, Pikachu has passed me too, shaking the ketchup container for all she's worth. Strange, I must have lost concentration.  
  
("Blasted human things, didn't they design these with the possibility of sausage obstruction in mind?") She curses, slamming the thing on the ground in frustration. She also picks up her pace, and I fight to match it. Sheez, everyone is in a rush today. I take another swig from my empty drink bottle, imagining the feel of water on my tongue. It's such a strange day, I don't think I'm really with it. My mind wanders while I put my head down to push harder. I don't believe I said what I said yesterday. Of all the stupid things, telling the love of your life to leave it. I know I was on edge, at a loose end, but that's no excuse. And that fact isn't making me feel any better, that's for sure. All the same, Ash is really confusing me this morning. I saw it clear as day when I insulted him, brushed him away, that he was devastated. The snapshot of those chocolate eyes leaden with anguish will haunt me for aeons. Yet this morning, not a word, not a look, not a change in attitude. Excepting the sausage incident of course. What has he done in twelve hours, what has been done, to erase that horrible moment? He's not a bad actor, but I can read him well. Like a book with big, big letters in. Everything about him, eyes, elbows, voice, toes, tells me he's forgotten, that he's focused on tomorrow, not yesterday. Always tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, what day is it tomorrow? God, that's irritating. When I'm feeling rotten, I want everyone else to share a piece of it, just to make it feel better. Like spreading a big lump of jam all over the bread so everyone gets a taste of the marmalade. Mmmm, marmalade. Haven't had it for absolutely ages. I have another blurry moment, seemingly cured by a draught on my air-filled canteen. Too much to think about. My studies, my relationships, my history, my breakfast, my blisters, my panties, my spoons.  
  
"Hey Misty, you're slowing down." Hazel's blunt but not unkindly voice, like something blunt but not unkind, maybe an iron, again wakes me up, to see her matching me stride for stride. Maybe a toaster would be kinder than an iron. But maybe not.  
  
"Maybe. Maybe everyone else is speeding up." I snap my retort, not feeling like talking much. She frowns at me, and then pulls ahead herself. Great, trying to make a point are we? I put some more effort into travelling and keep up with her, examining her stolen trainers. For some reason they're becoming very interesting. Maybe the shopkeeper hasn't noticed their absence yet. Maybe he's gone to pick potatoes off trees. Seems perfectly reasonable to me, if someone kept stealing my shoes, I would want to go and take vegetables from trees for a living. It would keep me fit, trim down my flabby belly too. So long as I didn't keep eating the produce. I snort with laughter at the thought of how many potatoes there would be growing in this forest if I came back and planted a potato tree in place of every prickly one. About 782,923 potatoes. Before potato tax and theft of course, and manky ones that I couldn't sell.  
  
("Misty, you're slowing down.") Chikorita catches me, repeating Hazel's message. Or was it Pikachu's message? Can't remember.  
  
"No I'm not." I giggle for a moment. "I'm running in slow-motion 'cause it looks cool. When I speed time up again I'll be ahead of everyone!" She gives me a puzzled stare, and I grin madly back.  
  
("You all right?") I nod serenely, before blinking away drowsiness from my eyes.  
  
"Fine like a badger." I tilt my head up to look ahead, and receive a third, more prolonged spell of dizziness. Heh, I must have forgotten my contact lenses. Or something. My mind seems cloudy, and I realise I've stopped. When did I stop?  
  
("Misty?!") Chikorita seems a distance away. Probably left her behind when I stopped. It feels so hot, so warm, so steamy. So sleepy.  
  
"Hot, sun, water....." A mouth mumbles from somewhere. Don't know whose. Chikorita seems to shout, and a split-second later, I feel two pairs of hands touching me. At least I think so.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?" I think that was Hazel, or almond, or whatever nut she's named after.  
  
"Nothin', just need a lil drink." I tip the bottle, and failing to feel any water escaping, throw my head back to let me tilt it just a little more.  
  
And then darkness.  
  
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("Ash!") I turn around curiously at Chikorita's worried voice, to see her stood looking at a stationary Misty. Well, her feet are stationary, but her body is swaying. I start making my way back, dropping the sauce bottle to the floor. Hazel, who was closest to the two, is already there. Ash catches up to me as I reach the others, and he's looking concerned.  
  
"Hot, sun, water." Misty slurs, almost overbalancing.  
  
("She's gonna fall!") Chikorita hurriedly yells, wrapping a vine around the wavering red-heads waist, bright locks contrasting sharply with an unusually pale face. Ash dashes to her and holds her shoulders, and after a moment Hazel follows suit.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?" She asks, almost to the world in general.  
  
"Nothin' just need a lil drink." To my shock, Misty tips her head right back, raising the canteen, and instantly slumps backwards. The other three bear her gently to the floor, until she's lain comatose and white as a sheet on a bed of moss and dirt, while I look on stunned.  
  
"Is she pissed or something?" I glare at the Cerulean girl who had just suggested Misty was drunk. But at the same time, there aren't many other reasons for collapsing like this that I can think of.  
  
("I don't think her bottle is full of gin or vodka. Not unless rivers up here flow with alcohol when Misty approaches.") I finish my sentence and look at Chikorita, anxious thoughts begging me to release them somehow. ("And just in case you're unsure, they don't.") My rival bristles visibly, and I feel my fear ease a little. It's something sadistic and cheap, but picking at her is a nice vent for emotion sometimes.  
  
("But for you they'd run with wine, yes little-miss-smartass?") She snaps back, and it catches me by surprise. ("I'm not stupid you know. Looks like you're the person who needs to learn, not me!") My mouth stops flapping like a beached guppy and forms a reply.  
  
("Let me tell you - ")  
  
"Ladies, please!" I snap out of the angry haze at the sound of Ash's proclamation. "This is not the time. Cut it out." Pretending to not notice that the two of us have squared up, I hop over to where my second-favourite person is spreadagled.  
  
("What do you think it is? Is she dehydrated?") Chikorita asks, and I bite my tongue to stop myself asking Chikorita if she knows what the word actually means.  
  
"I don't know, her canteen is empty." Ash upends her container, and not a drop of liquid emerges. "Yep, it's bone dry. Looks like she forgot to fill it this morning, so I guess she is. I think she's a bit hypoglycaemic, too." What?  
  
"It means she's got low blood sugar." I turn to Hazel, in sync with everyone else. "Hey, my gran was diabetic. She told me all about it, before she, she....."  
  
"Well, Misty hasn't been eating enough recently. She's probably short on sugar, and on a day like this with all the travelling, there doesn't need to be much wrong." Did I hear him right?  
  
("But she's been having meals with us. She hasn't been refusing food, well not until this morning, that is.") I think back to the seemingly innocuous conversation earlier which I only half-listened to, and my worry eases up a couple of notches. And now, I look clearly at Misty for the first time in a long while. Seeing wrists which are thin and bony. A once snug shirt hanging loosely from narrowed shoulders, breasts hardly causing a swell in it as it lays limp across her torso. But how, how didn't we notice? I just had that little mental picture of Misty I've always had since I met her in my mind, and sort of superimposed that onto her whenever I talked with her. Sometimes you really never see what is going on right in front of your eyes.  
  
"For a few weeks now, she's been finding ways to dispose of those meals." The meaning of those darkly spoken words sink in as I examine his eyes. They're not just worried, they're scared. He's staring at his beloved with fearful intensity, still kneeling, motionless. Then, slow as a tree falling, he bends forward and puts his arms around her, resting his head gently on her chest. The motion seems to bring the bowing of a mourner to my mind, the very pose and reverence. Quite an eerie image.  
  
("Shit.") Chikorita has caught the truth in the words too. From my angle, at his side, I can't see my trainer's face, so I look up at Hazel opposite me. She's watching him closely, about a million different emotions fighting a pitched battle. I can see jealousy there, for sure. And worry, worry for Misty in spite of herself.  
  
"Misty, can you hear me?" Ash's voice sounds half-broken, words crackling. No response. I remain silent. For some reason, it seems that my image of mourning isn't so inaccurate after all. He's doing what he wishes he could do all the time, wrap his arms around the one he loves, get so close their noses touch. And there is a sense of loss, strangely. Loss of that ideal he had of Misty as a strong, happy, vibrant girl, the picture he loved and cherished for so many years. Replaced by the stark naked truth of reality, and a frail, vulnerable young woman.  
  
"I'm going to get some water, back in a flash." Hazel scurries off to the river, which has grown wide and sluggish as we near it's mouth. We're a couple of minutes away since the vegetation is pretty thick around it's banks.  
  
"Why, Myst? Why are you doing this to yourself? Why? You were beautiful as you were, you're always beautiful to me....." I look back to the scene in front of me. Ash still has his head resting on Misty, almost as if he's listening for the beating of her heart to affirm that she is still with him. It's like something out of Romeo and Juliet. And if someone were to walk in on us, they could be forgiven for assuming that the worst had happened.  
  
("Hey Ash, take it easy. It's not like she's died or anything.") I gasp in shock as Chikorita's blunt words pierce the little bubble we're in with the ease of a dagger. Ash slowly eases himself off Misty, hands brushing at his eyes, and gets up.  
  
"You're right, you're right, I should be doing something, not blubbering like a baby." He grabs his bag and heads off towards the river himself, for what purpose I don't know. I watch him go still struck dumb, but soon as he vanishes from sight, the spell evaporates. Leaving the biting memory of Chikorita's last statement.  
  
("What the hell are you playing at?!") Chikorita's head snaps around to look at me.  
  
("What do you mean?") She sounds confused, but I don't care.  
  
("That! That thoughtless, foul statement, could you be any more tactless?!") She glares at me, moving to face me down again.  
  
("It wasn't tactless, someone had to tell him! No point in him crying over Misty when she needs some help. Hell, it's not like she's dead!") I growl at those words, forepaws tensing with frustration.  
  
("Are you totally stupid? Don't you see what this is doing to him? His beloved has just collapsed, and she's been either dodging or throwing up all her meals for the last god knows how long! Plus, he's got to deal with trying to hold back all the things he feels for her, and the only chance he gets to hug her is when she's laying comatose on the floor!") I swipe fiercely at the grass below my feet in emphasis. Chikorita recoils at my furious action, but then gathers herself to reply.  
  
("Jesus Pikachu, he needed reminding that she isn't the be-all and end-all of his life! He probably would've lain there with her until she comes around or he dies of starvation!") She stamps a foreleg and glares at me, eye to eye. ("If your determination to be a goody-goody and keep your place at his right hand with a silver spoon in your mouth is that strong, you can damn well have it. But I won't be such a lap-dog, only speaking when spoken to. I'll tell him what he needs to know!") My whole body stiffens, and I can feel it getting ready to pounce. The worst thing about what Chikorita is saying isn't her piercing voice, but the fact that she's not completely wrong.  
  
("Bull! I could see what that moment meant to him. You'd have to be blind or ignorant not to.")  
  
("But it was a moment. Moments end, Pikachu.") I've lost the argument, I know it already. But I don't give a shit. Chikorita is stood but inches away, and I want, no, need to hurt her. With words or actions, I don't care which. Just to attack, to feel the satisfaction of adrenaline and superiority.  
  
("So you had to end it, before it's time was up. You insensitive bitch. Some friend, tearing your way into that with the grace and delicacy of a crowbar. I should give you a damn good thrashing for it. Maybe I should give you one just for being you!") She stands her ground, eyes flashing in readiness.  
  
("Well I guess that you just needed an excuse.") I feel the months of idleness, the adrenaline and aggression unused, creeping through every cell in my body, a spring coiling in readiness. I can see it in Chikorita too. ("An excuse to let your mean little mind vent. You still haven't forgotten last time, have you? Still can't let go of the humiliation of being beaten by one you see as 'inferior'. Well, prepare for a vivid recollection.") The red mist sinks across my vision, claws emerge from my fingertips, like knives from their sheaths, ears flatten and hair bristles. I'm ready, and primed. Chikorita takes up a low crouch, visceral growl seeping from her throat. I stare her down, mind already in the fight. But I still have this tiny seed of doubt, nestling in the corner of my mind, telling me that no matter how many times I win, I'll never be victorious.....  
  
("Don't make cheques you can't cash.") With that sneering line, I leap. Two pairs of claws slice through an empty space where my adversary had just stood.  
  
("Don't get me started Pikachu, or didn't you learn the lesson last time?!") I spin to face her again, scouring for any sense of weakness. None to be seen.  
  
("Screw lessons, this is for real.") I shape to go left, but it's just a feint. Her weight shifts left as I hurl myself right, slashing cruelly into her side before she can adjust. Three lines of red greet my eyes before she smacks a vine into my temple, sending my world spinning. I get back to my feet, shaking off the attack, and grin as Chikorita winces at her wound. But I don't attack. This is just the start. I want this feeling, this satisfaction of battle to last.  
  
("You bastard.") Chikorita glowers at me, red eyes narrowing into crimson slits. ("You're going to pay. Pay with all you have.") She lashes out with a creeper, trying to snag an ankle and drag me down. Too slow. I slide sideways and give her a sneering look. One which is smashed off my face by her other vine, following up. The surprise becomes shock, and then rapidly fury. Fury at being tricked, fury at the pain, fury at my opponent mimicking my sneer.  
  
("That's it!!") The mist of instinct descends. No time for thought. Gaze glows and flickers as I charge my lightning.  
  
Flash. Chikorita grounding a vine in the dirt. Eyes shut tight as the electricity earths.  
  
Leaves slicing towards me. Must dodge! Clips my face.  
  
Rolling away. Bleeding.  
  
Thud, a vine landing square in the small of my back.  
  
Must win. Must win. Launch thunder.  
  
A scream, barely heard. She charges me.  
  
Agility. World slows. Move aside.  
  
She misses. Turn, slash as she dives past. Another scream. Use speed.  
  
Double team, she looks confused.....  
  
Crash. I send her tumbling. She rises slowly. Keep the pressure. Chase her.  
  
Vine lashing at me, can't avoid! Eyes spin, first seeing grass, now sky.....  
  
Blow to my chest. Winded, must breathe! Must recover, must get up.  
  
She approaches, hear her running. Can't get up.  
  
Charge body. Thunder wave.  
  
Thud. Another blow. No pain. A shriek, sensed not heard.  
  
Up. Get up. Thunder.  
  
Vision fringes white. She's shuddering, trying to ground a vine.  
  
Current strikes. A wrenching scream. Keep the pressure, more thunder.  
  
Scream becomes a wail. Winning. Keep going. Wail grows louder.  
  
Stop, take her down. Attack. Crunch as I strike her ribs. A sweet sound.  
  
She lies still. Now fights to rise. More thunder. Aim for her leaf.  
  
Strike. A cry, she struggles on. Again.  
  
Another wail, now choking sobs of agony. Stil fighting to get up.  
  
A take-down to her damaged ribs. A screech.  
  
Stand back. Thunder again. On target. More of a whimper than a scream. Still won't lie still.  
  
More energy. Lie still, damn you! No. Smouldering fur, bleeding, still struggling.  
  
Strike. Strike now. Everything. All you have. Put her down.  
  
A sound. A sound in the hiatus.  
  
Crying.  
  
She's crying.  
  
She's at my mercy. Dragging herself to face me. To stare defeat in the face.  
  
A small shock, more taunt than attack. She jolts, falling onto her damaged side. A long, plaintive wail.  
  
Still she pulls up. Lain on her belly, eyes tight shut, rivers of fluid gushing from them. Teeth gritted. Brave, yet stupid.  
  
Strike now, end it.  
  
The determination clamping her jaws together gives. I charge up for an attack.  
  
A high, piercing wail. Stuns me from launching. It dies. She's crying again. Racking great sobs, each one squeezing her broken ribs. Crying her very heart out.  
  
Strike! Now!  
  
Her red eyes open, bleary sight fixing on me. Bleeding, broken, beaten, unbowed.  
  
Thunder! Strike her down!  
  
She struggles for footing, rises up, but falls back onto her chest. Another sickening cry.  
  
Strike! Now! Win!  
  
Why?  
  
Why?! What am I doing?!  
  
Her eyes screw up, squeezing yet more tears from each of them. Tears I brought forth. I. I did this.  
  
I did this.  
  
The adrenaline haze lifts as mist under summer sun. Abandoning me to the reality it created. And Chikorita's infantile crying echoes all the louder. And I hear the crashing of someone running through woodland, getting closer and closer.....  
  
"What the hell!" Ash hurtles back into the clearing, and takes in the scene. A look of abject shock takes over.  
  
("A-Ash! Help, please.....") He rushes over to my victim, taking a scope of her injuries.  
  
"Who did this?" My heart leaps to my mouth. The bruises I have taken seem to swell in size, bleeding nose and cuts marking me as guilty without the need for trial.  
  
("Pikachu-") She gasps sharply, and stops speaking. Ash reguards her critically for a second, and then gets up. He turns around to face me, face querying. It's pointless to deny the fact, pointless to even wait for the question.  
  
("We had a fight.I, uh, won.") He frowns darkly.  
  
"I don't think anyone has won." He looks over his shoulder at Chikorita, still lain like a beached fish, before returning his sight to me. "But that's damn disgusting. I hope you're ashamed of yourself. I should be screaming at you right now, but I don't have the time or the energy. Now I've got two people lying on the floor that I need to take care of." A few dismissive words and he returns to Chikorita's side, doing a more detailed search for injury. And I slump in my place, the hands of shame gripping me tight. I have to fight to stop myself adding to the sobs which are echoing from Chikorita. Why? I didn't want this. I glance at Misty's silent form, thankful that she was untouched by the battle. I guess I'm lucky this time. And I paused before I took up my desire to 'end it'.  
  
Or did Chikorita stop me?  
  
I don't know. But I had to stop her, since she might not have stopped herself. I think back to that time, three years back. Well, more than that now. Things had started so simply. A little private feud between Chikorita and myself. Just being possessive over Ash. In the end, it was a turf war in Pallet Town. I found that she had one hell of a temper. When she loses it, she loses it completely.  
  
"Come on, we're at least a day from Cerulean. You'll be a lot more comfortable in your pokeball, I don't want a punctured lung on my hands if you move too much. Please?"  
  
("No! I'm not going in there!") Ash's cajoling words are rebuffed by Chikorita, who is shouting loud as she can in her current condition. Strange, but that is what I remember most, the pokeball. It was a Sunday, just after lunch. Some events went on which pushed the boundaries too far, and Ash said he'd had enough. One of us would have to go into a pokeball, until we learnt to get along.  
  
And that was what lead to our hospitalisation for a couple of months.  
  
It wasn't intended for him, what happened. Truth be told, it was intended for me. But he got in the way. We both took the consequences. And by the time he got out of hospital, and I from the Pokecenter, Chikorita and I had wordlessly resolved to never mention what had happened again, and to try getting on. And we have.  
  
"Okay, if you insist." Ash gives up on his attempts at persuasion, and carefully picks Chikorita up, to move her next to Misty. Hazel re-appears with water, and on Ash's suggestion, puts some of our sugar supply in it to give to his comatose counterpart, who is beginning to stir. And no-one is paying me the slightest bit of attention.  
  
I was right. No matter whether I beat Chikorita or not, she's always victorious.....  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------  
  
I brush more twigs away from my face, re-tracing my earlier steps to the Cerulean River. I came out here for a bit of privacy, a wash, and if I'm being blunt, a pee. Lunch was manky. Really bad. So I cooked it, big deal. I blame the ingredients. And the utensils. But Ash was busy treating the sick and wounded, and Pikachu seemed well out of it. Who else was going to do it? At least Misty ate some of it. She tried to spit it back out, but Ash wouldn't let her. When he tasted it, he realised why, but ate it anyway with an encouraging grimace on his cute face. How was I to know that using sugar instead of salt would make such a difference? I decided to get out of there before the silence became deafening. Chikorita and Misty aren't ready to travel for a while, so I decided to follow Ash's lead and kill time in my own company.  
  
Splash!  
  
I stop dead, craning my neck to see what had made the noise. At first I see nothing, but then an arm rises, and jerks forwards. Silence, then a plop. My eyes gradually make out a shape with black hair sat with his back to me, throwing things out into the sluggish river. Ash, Hmmm? Now, I wonder how I can get him to blush this time. I've done the towel trick, the accidental- walking-in trick, so now what? It's really nice to see him blush, also kinda naughty too. I know that it's not a socially agreeable thing to do, but I'm used to it. Hell, I grew up with it, and it wasn't that bad. Almost the one part of my life that was bearable, at least until it began to develop. So, what next? An appearance, and disrobing feigning ignorance at his presence?  
  
"Sheez, just when you think life can't get any worse....." Mutterings float into my ears, and I stop my plottings and listen. Silence, and then the sound of a larger stone landing in the river, hurled with some force judging by the splash. More silence. Then, was that a sniff? Nothing follows it for several seconds. I'm about to make my presence known when he stars talking loudly, almost as if he's addressing the river itself. "I don't know what I've done to deserve this, but the punishment can't be worth the crime, can it?" I freeze, interested. I've not heard Ash speak a word on what has gone on, so I crane closer to listen as he continues. "Feuding friends, a love who seems to hate me, an anorexic, an obsessive and a bloody abused criminal case all relying on me. And my confidant leaving as he can't take it any more. What if I can't? What do I do?" Keenly, I lean forwards to hear more. And step on a twig, which breaks with a resounding crack. The quiet aura returns, but I know it's pointless to hide any longer. Ash isn't going to say a word now he thinks he has an audience.  
  
"Ahhh, time for a quick dip." I step out to the bank, ignoring the fact he's here. I move to pull my shirt over my head, and hesitate. This isn't the time. Hearing his words has taken all the energy out of the idea. So, I turn around and feign surprise as my eyes meet an almost identical pair. Seconds pass, the only noise that of the breeze, as I search them for any hint of red or wetness. It just seems important to me, to know if he's been crying. Don't know why. Perhaps it's so I know my ears weren't deceiving me. Or maybe just so that I know he's finally showing a weakness. The side that I've never seen, the secret part, the bit which he keeps hidden.  
  
"I'll leave you to it." Ash breaks the standoff, his tone emotionless, and gets up stiffly. "The river's all yours." He strides quickly towards, and then past me, heading the way I'd come.  
  
"No, wait!" I feel this irrational need to keep him here, and it shows in my voice. But it does stop him.  
  
"What?" He sounds irritated, and I fight to find an excuse for calling him.  
  
"I, uh, I don't mind you staying. Really." It's an honest statement, but it's more trying to stop him leaving until I think of a good reason.  
  
"Hazel, don't you want some privacy?" He turns around to face me, face questioning. I shake my head definitely.  
  
"No, it's not a problem. I'd like someone to talk to while I'm swimming." Now he looks puzzled.  
  
"But doesn't it bother you, having someone.....see you?" More head shaking.  
  
"Not at all. Especially not you! Now, come and chat." I move to take my shirt off again, only to see him turning his back, and beginning to walk away. "Hey! Where are you going? I told you it doesn't bother me!" He stops again, but doesn't turn.  
  
"It bothers me. I don't think I should be watching a teenage girl undress and swim naked. Now, if you'll excuse me....."  
  
"I only want a chat! Come on, you can sit with your back to me if you have to."  
  
"I'm not in a chatty mood." Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.  
  
"I heard you talking to yourself! What did you mean?" That stops him dead. Time passes slowly, my breath unconsciously held.  
  
"What do I mean by what?" He revolves to face me again, voice deadpan.  
  
"Everything!" We stare at each other for the third time in about a minute. Then, he makes his way back to me.  
  
"I didn't mean anything. It was just the bored ramblings of a tired mind, best if you forget them." Yeah, right. I'm not an idiot.  
  
"So that's what you really feel, huh? Fed up of all of us are you?" I glare at him, tone becoming waspish. "Well nice of you to pretend otherwise in our presence." I turn away, stepping back out onto the riverbank.  
  
"Hazel, it didn't mean anything. You probably misheard me, that's all." Damn, I'm good at trapping people. There is genuine fear in his words, and I decide to push the matter.  
  
"So I misheard you calling me an abused criminal case?!" This time, the bitterness and misery in my voice are very real. Of all the people who I thought could think that way, I'd never have believed Ash would! I can already feel myself welling up, damn it, I've become such a wuss since meeting him, it's all his fault I'm in this state.  
  
"Sorry." A warm hand grasps my right shoulder, and I follow it up it's arm to the face of it's owner, who is peering into my eyes with deep regret. I just gaze right back, waiting for him to continue. "I've just been a bit worn down recently, y'know? What with Cyndaquil leaving, Pikachu and Chikorita fighting and Misty, well, you only know half the story." I note silently that he left me out of his list, before asking the big question on my mind.  
  
"Half?"  
  
"Well, uh, I'd rather not talk about that." To keep pushing or step back? I think I'll let it rest, for now.  
  
"Okay, if you insist. But the least you can do now is stay and chat to make up for your 'ramblings'. Yes?" I give him a huge grin, grabbing his hand with one of mine. He falters, but probably guesses that he's trapped.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so." I nod to him, grin becoming cheeky.  
  
"Great!" With that, I unceremoniously pull my shirt off fully, and feel a gush of satisfaction wash over me as Ash reddens and turns away. I finish stripping, and am about to dive straight in, when I spy a large rock near my feet. Hmmmm. Ah, yes. I can be so devious sometimes! I crouch, heave it up onto my shoulder quietly as I can, and lob it into the river with a massive splash. Half a second, a second, two..... "Okay, you can look now!"  
  
"Right." Ash turns around, and his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. I giggle with satisfaction, and slip him a wink. I love creating a scene, and he looks so cute when he's embarrassed.  
  
"Enjoying the view?" God, I think he's going to pass out. I want to hug him until he can't breathe!  
  
"H-Hazel, uhm, please get in the water....." I can't help but notice that he can't tear his gaze off me, and it makes me swell up with joy. Seeing someone appreciate me in such a way, a good way. At least it seems to be a good way to me.  
  
"So long as you're through looking?" I stick my tongue out cheekily, and still glowing with pride, take a running dive into the water.  
  
C-O-L-D!!!!!  
  
"AAAAAGHHHHHH!" I re-surface with a scream, and pedal frantically for a few seconds until I regain feeling in my skin. Truth be told it's much warmer down here than higher in the mountains, but it's still cold!  
  
"Uhm." Ash is still in some sort of trance as I paddle back over to the bank. I enjoy it for a moment, and then break him out of it.  
  
"You can really open your eyes now." The sneaky smile my mouth is sporting broadens further as he just watches me open-mouthed until something finally clicks.  
  
"I think it's best Misty doesn't know about this one." He chuckles, and I join in.  
  
"Mind you, she's no better, from what I've heard she didn't just see, she went looking." I pause, still grinning. "I heard about it from Chikorita, but I get the feeling that she missed bits out. Mind if I hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak?"  
  
"I don't see why not." He settles back, and I rest my arms on the bank to listen. "I decided that it was a warm day, and felt like a swim. The Cerulean river is just about the cleanest and purest water in Kanto, so it is always a pleasure. Well, I went ahead and just dived in, not realising that I'd forgotten my towel. Misty found it after I'd left."  
  
"How did she find it? Was it in your bag?" My interested voice makes him break off, and smile.  
  
"Yes, it was. So, first mystery, what the hell was she doing in my bag? I don't know the answer to that one, she was probably just being nosy. Anyhow, she found it, and put two and two together. I think that there was a bit of curiosity in her mind when she decided to try and find me." He laughs, more to himself than anyone else. "I was practising my underwater gymnastics when she first reached the river. I get the feeling she was about to rush out and save me from whatever was keeping me down there for so long. I eventually re-surfaced, and did something you would see in a really crap shampoo advert, flicking my wet hair back and running fingers through it. I love the feeling of hair, especially when it's freshly washed. So, for some reason, Misty decides not to announce her presence."  
  
"It's probably because of your six-pack." I giggle flirtily. Don't know if that's really a word, but it's perfect.  
  
"Well, I wasn't going to say so myself." I watch his handsome face shape into a grin, and feel my heart flutter. I'm stark naked only a few feet away from a drop-dead-gorgeous guy who is telling me a funny story. Try describing how that feels. "But obviously, from the bank, you can't really see much. So, she spied a large, very leafy tree nearby. Somehow, her curiosity, and probably her hormones, overrode her sanity. Climbing the tree seemed like a damn fine idea to her."  
  
"She thought you wouldn't notice?" I'm cracking up here, it's so much more bizarre than when Chikorita told me the tale.  
  
"I don't think it crossed her mind." If Ash was any more deadpan he could be a funeral director. "Of course, I heard her climbing the tree. She may be awesome at aquabatics, but climbing trees is not her forte. She used about twenty curses just getting onto the lowest branch."  
  
"So you knew the whole time?" I'm stunned by that. From what I'd heard, it all seemed innocent. But nope.  
  
"Yeah. And, of course, I'm not stupid. I knew, deep down, exactly what Misty wanted to see of me more than anything else. I decided to tease her, sheesh, she was trying to spy on my nude figure, she could damn well wait until I chose to expose myself. And I mean wait." He starts sniggering helplessly, shaking his head. "I drew out the charade for twenty minutes! All the time, walking into the shallows, just up to a point..... and turning around and diving back in. She'd probably seen enough of my backside to run a series of seminars on it, y'know?" I'm sniggering too, I didn't quite realise how suave Ash could be when he wanted to be. I'm impressed.  
  
"So what was she doing?" All the details, it's little details that make life interesting!  
  
"I couldn't tell you exactly, since I was trying to pretend she wasn't there." Kinda like me!  
  
"But I guess you saw something."  
  
"Mmm-hmmm. She just kept on going higher and higher. Ever looked into a pool from ground level? The image is all distorted and irregular by the angle and ripples. The higher you go the clearer the resolution. So, by the time I got bored of playing around and decided to get out, she was a good fifteen feet up. I think that I could've stood with the water around my waist for a little too long, I saw her lean forwards out of the corner of my eye."  
  
"And?" I egg him on keenly.  
  
"The branch sagged and she fell off it, and then bounced off a few others on the way down. She eventually landed on her ass about ten feet away." He grins broadly at the memory as my girly giggling grows louder. "I stared at her. She stared at me. And then she turned around, plucked a twisted sheet of fabric from where it was hanging from the lowest bough. Turned again to face me. Another staring match. I could see in her aqua eyes that she was completely stunned. Disappointed too, and embarrassed. It was kinda cute. Then she woke up, and just said 'you forgot your towel'. Handed it to me without a word, and then walked off. And the whole time I was trying like hell not to crack up, when she left I laughed so hard I almost hyperventilated. She didn't catch my eye for the rest of the day, until she was about to hit the sack that night. She just came over to me, whispered 'nice butt' in my ear and went to bed." I throw my head back and let go of the bank, throat roaring with laughter, eyes streaming with mirth.  
  
"Glub!" And start drowning as I sink below the surface, laughter inhaling a lungful of water. My arms thrash in reflex, pushing me back up, where I gag on the cold fluid filling my chest. Then coughing it up, each agonising wrench pushing more fresh water out of my body, and more salty water from each eye. Eventually the trauma is over, and I flop half-onto the bank, gasping as a beached fish but growing stronger, not weaker, with each attempt at inhalation.  
  
"You okay?" Ash asks me, crouching at my side, worried. I nod slowly, regaining my sarcasm.  
  
"Yeah, 'cept for the fact I just drank the whole Cerulean river and spat it back out again." My breath wheezing, I lift my head gingerly to look at him. "Any assistance would be greatly appreciated."  
  
"Like?"  
  
"Well that Hindlick thingy would work well."  
  
"It's the Heimlich manoeuver, and it's not really needed now." He pauses, and grins. "Besides, how would it look if I stood behind you, wrapped my arms around your body and made violent thrusting movements? That wouldn't just look dodgy, it'd probably be illegal." I chuckle the best I can with airways that still feel like they're taped shut, but entertain the image for longer than maybe I should.  
  
"At least you've loosened up a bit, you prude." He shrugs it off.  
  
"Seeing The Little Mermaid half-drown takes the mind of other things." We both laugh idly this time, recovering from the surprise of my sudden underwater trip. "Seems like everyone I'm around ends up getting waylaid. Cyndaquil storming off, Chikorita getting beaten up by Pikachu, Misty passing out, you drinking through your windpipe, sheesh, it must be my turn next." I giggle loudly at this, stopping a bit quicker when I notice Ash isn't. He inwardly shrugs, and looks me in the eye. "How are you feeling about getting back to Cerulean City?"  
  
"Fine." The automatic defence system kicks in before I have a chance to think, out of habit. But he doesn't ask me again or call me a liar, he just sits and watches me. I realise I haven't thought about it that much. So I do, and what is actually going to happen soaks like acid through my skin. I'm going back to my home town. Where he lives. I'm going to be back within sight, within hearing, within touching distance. A shudder that isn't due to the cold water still rippling past my submerged legs starts deep down and passes outwards, despite all efforts to conceal it.  
  
"Hazel?" The way he's looking at me, no, into me, is somehow reassuring. I don't feel afraid to say I'm afraid any more.  
  
"I'm scared. Really scared. What if he finds me? Will he try to attack me? Will he drag me away? Will he make advances? And even if he ignores me, I'll still know he's there, somewhere, and how can I pretend he isn't?" I sink back gradually into the river. "He's done much more than injure me. What he has done is impossible to forget. I can't forgive, let alone forget, and I'm scared....." I just can't help it, realising the fears that face me has brought out my weakness. Dread. Ever since I left Cerulean last, one thing has occupied me, what will await my return?  
  
"Don't be." I tug my body out of the water, airways clearing.  
  
"Why? Why shouldn't I be frightened? My devil is waiting for me, and I keep walking to meet him." Foolish steps, or strides of defiance? Don't know.  
  
"I'm here. I'm not going to let you get broken up by some bastard who should be locked away." I'm stunned by his courage, the very idea of him taking on the ogre who had dominated my life.  
  
"But you don't know what he's like, what he's capable of!" Ash shakes his head slowly, long black bangs swinging gently across his cheeks.  
  
"All I know is he attacked a child, and that's not the action of a strong man, it's the action of a coward and a bully." I gape at his words, knowing he's really going to defend me. "I've had my fair share of battles in the past, and I've won most of them, some against real fighters. And my Pokemon will back me up too. So don't you worry, I won't let him lay a finger on you." He almost seems to glow in my eyes. Ash, my knight in shining armour. I really really want to just glomp him with a full-body hug and smooch, but it's like a new part of my mind has just awoken, telling me that I shouldn't. Telling me that I should really show how much this means to me, how much he means to me.  
  
"Ash?" I get up onto my feet, and step gracefully towards him.  
  
"Yes?" He gets up himself and watches me approach, and I mean watches. The pleasurable glow in my mind becomes even brighter as I reach him, and look into his brown orbs for a timeless moment. Then, I crane up onto my toes.....  
  
"Thank you." And I kiss him. Straight on the lips. "For protecting me, for loving me. Thank you." I kiss him again, and to my surprise, he accepts the kiss. I wrap my arms around him, marvelling at the sheer brashness of my actions as well as the glittering of my lips as they caress his, almost seeming to meld together and link us beyond comprehension.Time slows, the sunlight seems to fade to grey, once random birdsong now serenading us. A red flush rising in my face, my hands grasping for a closer hold, Ash returning my impassioned actions with equal vigour, our contact deepening, butterflies flittering in my stomach and mind as my mischievous tongue slips furtively into his mouth, his eyes meeting mine, two identical hues locking. His irises flash with passion, and I feel a further surge of longing from them. My hands grab at his shirt, his green shorts, his raven hair. His fingers rub my naked back, dropping a little lower each second, and I grasp at his chest, his ass, and then my wandering palm brushes his crotch.....  
  
"Hazel!" The lip-lock breaks and with it the frenzied air, and I stare at his astonished expression, now acutely aware of his touch barely above my hips, the sheer closeness of our bodies, my arms around him. He blinks a couple of times, but I can sense, can feel his desire, in more ways than one. But here and now, with him, it doesn't scare me, it excites me.  
  
"I want this, I want you....." I sink back into his embrace, skin glowing with pleasure at every point of contact. Placing kisses on his face and neck, sliding hands inside his shirt, letting them ride over his smooth skin, the ridges of muscle, exploring every inch of his torso. Again I feel him respond, returning a few of my pecks, caressing my back warmly. Held there, surrounded by him, I feel so safe, so secure, but I want more than his care, I want his love, his heart, his body. A strange, almost chilling sensation shoots through my body as I realise that only a layer of clothing lies between us and the most intimate of contact. Even the sweet meeting between my lips and his fades into insignificance as the thought floods my head. Just half a centimeter of fabric. All that there is. Nothing more. I feel a cold, no freezing warmth spreading throughout me, focusing in my hips and breast. It's so possible, so easy, it's already been decided. I want it, the true intimacy, to breathe, to feel I'm alive. I reach for his shorts -  
  
"No!" He backs off from our contact, pulling away with frenzied speed. The crystallised ideal, the image of what was to occur in our next moments cracks, a crazy-paving of fractures filtering throughout it, and then shatters. Lust's blindfold slips from it's place. And the full impact of what I was going to do lands on me like a ton of bricks.  
  
"Oh, uhm, Ash, I'm. I'm, oh, I don't know." I'm assaulted from every side by panicked thoughts all screaming to be heard above each other. But what screams loudest to me is Ash's horrified face, eyes already locked into bitter self-recrimination and disgust.  
  
"No, I shouldn't have, why did I, what was I thinking?!" He spins away, head in hands. "What was I doing? What was I doing?! What could I have done?!"  
  
"No, it was me, I wanted to, I tried to -" I can't say what it was I wanted, not aloud, not now that my shame has taken hold of my mouth.  
  
"Damn it, damn it!" To my shock, Ash lunges forward and hits a tree so hard it shakes the whole trunk. "How could I even think of doing such a thing!" I move to grab him before he does himself more damage, but a thought stops me dead.  
  
"Think of doing what?" My desire freezes, arm drawn back, fist clenched, poised for another attack on the tree.  
  
"Of.....of kissing you like that." His arm drops to his side, and he just stands staring at the tree he just assaulted, refusing to look back. I feel some sort of optimism rising in my chest. That's an outright lie. Maybe, just maybe, my dreams might be in reach.  
  
"But I enjoyed it! And so did you. Why didn't you break off then, when that's all it was?" Silence is once again his response. "What were you thinking of? What was it that you wanted to do that you didn't? 'Cause it wasn't kissing."  
  
"Don't ask, please don't ask." So there is something more.  
  
"It was me, wasn't it?" He flinches, and my heart takes a leap. I was right. "You were thinking of me. Of how you could have, have....." I fade out, waiting to see his reaction as breath catches in my throat.  
  
"Yes. Yes, damn it." Raw frustration just oozes from his tone. "I could have, and god fucking help me I wanted to." But he just won't say the words.  
  
"I wanted it, I wanted you. I was prepared to take it from you." Seems like I can't say the words either. "With or without your permission. And I'm sorry." I really, really am. I'm surprised again as Ash shakes his head.  
  
"I should have stopped it before it got that far. I feel like I've let you down, led you on." His voice drops to dull monotone, devoid of direction.  
  
"I did the leading here." Anger floods my system. There's no way I'm having him blame himself for this on top of everything else he blames himself for. "Sheesh, Ash, I was all over you like a rash. And there was nothing more I wanted than to make love to you." I pause to reflect on what I've said. There, it's out in the open. "And I felt the same from you, in more ways than one. Don't feel upset about it, I'm a nice looking girl, aren't I?"  
  
"Yes, yes you are." Hope rises like a bubble in my body at his agreement. "But don't you see the important part? You're a nice looking girl. Girl. You're Thirteen, Hazel. Thirteen. And that makes me a criminal." The bubble bursts.  
  
"Why should my age matter? It's my decision to make, it's not like I'll use you or report you to the police or anything." Already I sound like I'm pleading. Hell, I am. But I don't want to give up, not yet.  
  
"But think about it for a minute. One, we didn't. Two, pregnancy. Three, betrayal. How do you think I would feel, having promised to look after you, protect you, if I went straight ahead and had unprotected sex with you, under-aged and vulnerable, right here and now?" He makes sense, he really does. But the way he puts it really bristles me. Like I'm a porcelain doll or something which he has to wrap in cotton wool.  
  
"I would be just as responsible as you. More. I knew what I was attempting to do, and I was prepared for it. Don't try and pretend I'm an innocent in all this. I wanted to feel something, anything which would make my life seem worthwhile, and you're the only one who makes me feel alive. I wanted to be loved, to really be touched, to feel wanted, feel affection. Is that too much?" His neck has bowed as he listens to my impassioned speech, and stays that way for five seconds. Ten. Twenty. And then he turns around to look me in the eye.  
  
"That's it, you see. There are a million ways to give and take affection. Thousands to show how much someone is wanted. Any number to touch another deeply. But that one thing is something I want to save, for when it is right. Both with the right person, and at the right time. And this is not the time." I bite my lip as I feel it quivering, the sadness of rejection surfacing. He sees this, and sighs gently. "Don't you get it now, Hazel? You're still immature in a lot of ways, and so thought that we could just do what we wanted to, and then go on back to life as normal." He breaks off my protests by placing a finger on my lips, before continuing in the same dulcTt tone. "I couldn't. It means a lot more than that to me. It's not something I would do to show that I like or love them a lot. I'd have to be certain, dead certain, that I wanted them to be with me forever. Maybe I'm placing too much emphasis on a simple act, maybe not. But it's not something I would do on a whim either. Now, maybe you don't quite understand that, but I hope you can accept it." I think deeply for a second, and then another. He's right, I don't quite understand. Maybe I can think about it for a while. But I realise enough to see that there is no point in disagreeing right now.  
  
"Okay, I see." He smiles at me, and I feel a weak grin reply for me. Too much, too much to process for me to say anything else. The conversation, the story, the feeling of his warmth, and most blinding, whatever the hell happened to me in those moments where I nearly went over the edge.  
  
"I'm heading back, you get dressed and ready, see you in five. We're heading out." I nod in reply, letting him leave as I pick up my clothes, having already relieved myself in the river while he was telling me the story. (Another thing that made me feel, well, naughty is the word I would use, although I'm thinking after the last few minutes that there's more to it than that.) Suddenly, something clicks in my head, and I call out to Ash's retreating figure.  
  
"You said that it's not the time. This isn't the time."  
  
"Yes?" He calls back.  
  
"But you didn't say that it wasn't the person, did you?" A second of quiet. I hold my breath.  
  
"No, I didn't. And I'm not going to say that either, not yet." With that he resumes walking, and in a second, he's out of sight.  
  
"He didn't. I might still be the one. I might still be the one!" I resist the urge to scream with joy at the top of my lungs, instead starting a wild, impromptu dance on the riverbank, physically jumping for joy.  
  
My dream may still come true yet.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------  
  
Breathe in. Ow. Breathe out. Ow. In. Ow. Out. Ow. Oh boy, are you going to pay for this Pikachu.  
  
"Feeling okay Chiko?" Ash asks me from just above, and I grin the best I can at him while wincing with every inhalation. Well, say no, and he might just decide to try and make me go in my Pokeball again. I don't have the energy for an argument, not with broken ribs, dozens of cuts and mild burns.  
  
("Yes.") I'm comfortable enough in his arms anyway. Being carried sure beats walking. He's even making sure he doesn't put any pressure on my chest.I think I'll just go back to plotting my revenge. They say that it's a dish best served cold, but I disagree. I prefer to let it chill, nice and slow. Then have it stand for a while, to let everything mature. Then, start cooking on a slow heat. Simmer for a while, taking care not to burn. Stir regularly, and add any spice thought necessary. Then, bring to the boil for fifteen minutes, and serve plentifully and piping hot, preferably at two hundred miles an hour from a great height.  
  
"You know, I really wish you'd re-consider."I feel like Ash is opening the great debate again, so I slam it shut on his fingers.  
  
("No. I'm not going in there.") No negotiator need apply. I think back to the first time I went into a Pokeball. It wasn't too bad, just a flash, a strange sensation which can't be compared to anything in the physical world, and then, well, not a lot. I think I dreamed, but it was like sleeping without the rest, not really feeling anything at all, but destined to re-emerge at a later time and place in pretty much the same state as I'd gone in. Any dreams I did have vanished upon awakening. So, for a while, all was well. Until one time.  
  
I'd been playing around a field on a summer day, not unlike today has been. The sun was high, immense sky littered with puffy white clouds. Not a day unlike my first, the first I breathed the sweet air. We had been there for hours. Ash had let us all out to enjoy the day. At that time, Cyndaquil was still a quiet enigma, he spent his time if not asleep then feigning it. Totodile was skipping around, dousing everyone with his water gun. Noctowl floating around on air currents, sometimes landing to preen her feathers. Donphan, I think it was, had been basking in the sun, occasionally trying to stomp Totodile flat for his random showering. Pikachu, I can't remember where she was. Ah, she was with Misty and Brock. They had gone to see some film or other, Misty as she'd been waiting to see it for 'years' (it had only been out four days) and Brock to try and pick up a girl and a back-row seat. Didn't quite understand the bit about the back row. Pikachu went with them, since she had heard Misty raving about the film for all of a week and was interested. But Ash told them that there was no way he was sitting in a dark cinema watching a film he didn't want to see. Cue a 'discussion' (argument) and a slightly painful bruise, and the result was him taking the rest of us for a stroll in the countryside. And he'd sat there for ages, below a solitary tree, smiling as he watched us all. All was going well, I'd spent so much time going over every daisy and dandelion in sight. The sun had slowly been sinking, and all too soon I heard him say "time to go everyone". Each of the others had returned to him, and been welcomed by a red flash of light, until I was the only one left. And I wasn't ready to go just yet. I'd baulked at the sight of my Pokeball, and proceeded to lead him on a merry chase. But I pushed it too far. He'd been trying to persuade me to come back, but I thought it was all a big joke. Until he shouted at me to stop, and told me that he'd have to bring me back against my will unless I returned. At that time, he wasn't quite who he is today, now he won't force anyone to stay with him or in a Pokeball against their will. Back then, he still had a bit of Trainer to Pokemon superiority, not nearly as bad as most, but still some. So, I ignored him, pretending to make a break for freedom, expecting him to follow me. What I didn't expect was a call of "return!" before the red glow contained me, stopping me in my tracks. I turned to face it, fought the pull, but couldn't get on top of it, and slowly got drawn in. The last thing I saw before darkness was a snapshot of blue sky, shrinking smaller and smaller, with the silhouette of Ash framed against it, until it slipped from vision.....  
  
And returned to that cell, the place I never wanted to be again. The next time I emerged I nearly bolted. The thought, the very thought of being there, away from life, the grass, the sky, the honeyed air. The nightmare of maybe being lost, forgotten or discarded and forever being trapped in that dark hole, only a fading memory of the world to sustain me in a seemingly everlasting sleep. Pretty soon after that I persuaded Ash into allowing me my freedom. He accepted my desire without ever really knowing my real reasons. But I guess he never needed to.  
  
"It'll be getting dark soon." Hazel says, from behind me. She's been shoulder to shoulder with Ash since lunch, with a pretty cheesy grin pinching her mouth all afternoon. I don't think it's just a co-incidence that they spent so long at the river together earlier. They haven't told me they did, but I can put two and two together.  
  
"Yeah, ten minutes and we'll set up for the night. It's only a few miles to Cerulean now. Okay by you, Misty? Pikachu?" I crane to look past my carer and back down the trail. Pikachu grunts in response, a few paces behind and staring at the floor. Misty, bringing up the rear after many loud protests that she doesn't need to be looked after like some pathetic invalid and that she wants her own company for a bit, doesn't even respond. She looks so drawn, wasted. As if she'll collapse if the wind blows.  
  
("Sounds good.") I intone, settling down and allowing my tired mind to entertain images of supper and sleep. I realise how puffed I feel after the events of the day, and smile. Yes, sleep will be good.  
  
"What's for tea?" Hazel asks idly, flicking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
"The usual." She nods, and flashes us a cute smirk.  
  
"So it's salt, not sugar? Five kilograms, yes?" Ash sighs and chuckles, and I fight the urge to do the same, knowing full well it'll be pretty agonising to.  
  
"Hazel, the usual is never the usual if you're cooking it. I think I'll take over those duties tonight, ne? Perhaps you could cough up some more water for me to save a trip!" They both laugh out loud at that, why I don't know, but my suspicions of something going on are piqued further. Looking back again, I see Misty shoot a glance up at us. Before I might have called it venomous, or even deadly, but now it's more despairing or even helpless.  
  
"Come on, this looks like a decent place." A spread of flat land, between the thinning trees, floor lined by a welcoming quilt of short grass. Ash sets me down on a nice patch, and I roll over onto my good side, watching them set to work. Pikachu ignores me and I return the favour as she goes burrowing in a dropped pack for something or other. Misty draws into the clearing last, slides her bag off and sits down, staring at nothing. Then, she gets a tattered book out, and begins reading it. Probably doing revision. And writing in it. Yeah.  
  
Well, it's none of my business, really.  
  
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11.45 PM, 20th July:  
  
Dear diary, it's night time now, but it doesn't make much difference to me. Nothing makes much difference to me right now. Logic says sleep, my body says sleep, my mind asks me "But what if I don't wake up?" And then it asks "Will it make much of a difference? Will it matter?" I can't answer that. And nothing worse than the question you are always asking yourself, but never able to answer. Especially one such as this. I know it will make a difference to the ones I travel with, but at the same time, how much? They'd still have one another, and one of them never seems to notice the outside world right now, not in the form of people. Always what will happen next, and where. Not what is happening now, or who it is happening to.....And the fire has just gone out. I hope that I'm still writing on the lines. It doesn't matter really. What does? That question again. It's a draught, a breeze which pushes a glass, my glass to the edge of the table, where it teeters on the brink. To be seen by a caring eye, or to slip from the edge and shatter on the floor? Or can it be seen, but the eyes are uncaring? Or do they assume the glass will not break? Can't they see the glass is fine as moonlight, the ground hard and unforgiving? I'm babbling now, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. What does?  
  
I shut the book carefully, and set the pen down. And read the shiny gold lettering on it's front in the sparse moonlight.  
  
The Diary Of Misty Kasumi Williams.  
  
A present from Ash last Christmas. Even getting my name inscribed on it's front for me. At the time he said that I needed something to remember things by, with my dreams being what they were. I didn't think it'd become what it has. A book of days, charting spiralling decline and escalating despair.  
  
But it has. And no more so than tonight. I reflect silently on what I have just written, considering if I meant the words my hand has crafted. It's a book, no reason to lie to it. So why am I uncertain? Perhaps I'm just scared that my innermost thoughts, the ones I have tried to hide from for what seems to be forever, are now naked in black ink, there for me to see. No escaping them. Anyone else could come and read them, but I don't care any more, it doesn't matter. It seems if anyone cared enough for me to care for what I've written they would have seen me sinking below the surface before now.  
  
So, it doesn't matter if I leave the book here, open, for prying eyes.  
  
Then why am I putting it away? Why am I burying it in my bag? I cast haunted eyes around the sleeping group, searching for consciousness. It seems that there's no point leaving things like this open, as some may feel duty bound to interfere with my shroud of comforting melancholy. I just want to be left in peace.  
  
To forget about everything. It doesn't matter, not to me, nothing matters any more.  
  
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At LAST! After a year and 80,000 words, I finally manage to make the link back to where I started. And there's probably still another 6 chapters or so to go. ^_^;;  
  
Ah well, at least I'll have something to do next easter.....  
  
Thanks for reading!  
  
Dan. 


	11. Slatterns

I would apologise at length for my delay, but I think everyone would ignore that and go straight to the story.  
  
So thanks to Cultnirvana for everything, and to all you wonderful reviewers. Next time I'll mention you by name, but I think you just want to get on with it now....  
  
Okay. Here goes:  
  
Where the River Flows: Chapter 11  
  
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I watch Chikorita stretching gingerly with a tired grin. Same as always, never gives up on something, whether it be a battle, a task, or in this case, trying to walk with broken ribs and about fifty abrasions. That reminds me, I'll have to have a chat with her and a certain other Pokemon about what the hell was going on yesterday. Before we get going today too. I don't want any more trouble, not while we're in the wilderness. Should get to our destination soon, over the next couple of days. I think I'd better do something to make sure I remember the pending conference. I reach into a side pocket of my ever-present and trusty bag, and draw P&C on the back of my hand in black ink. There, that should do it.  
  
".....cking holly bushes." Hazel's curses precede her, as usual. She's never short of a word, even if some of them aren't becoming from a girl her age. Mind you, that's one of the things I like about her. Reminiscent of a certain someone else in the vicinity. Well, reminiscent of how that certain someone used to be. That's one reason I fell into liking Misty, and one reason I grew to love her. A hand waving before my eyes snaps me from my reverie and blink back into reality.  
  
"Uhn? What is it?" The brown-haired girl before me looks ready to dump the large pot of water she is bearing in her diminutive hands over my head. I note mentally that since a quirky temper was one of the things that lured me into liking Hazel, there was little stopping it following the same course things took with Misty. The major obstacle being my feelings towards the aforesaid azure-eyed girl.  
  
"Are you going to wake yourself up or do I have to do it?" She tries to heave the container in a threatening manner, but it's a little too heavy and full to succeed. All she manages to do is dump half a litre on her chest and nearly fall flat on her backside before regaining control.  
  
"I think you've got my full attention already." I snigger, and she gives me a withering glare, which is slightly ruined by the huge smile her face is brandishing like a weapon.  
  
"So glad. Anyways - " She places the water, what is left of it, on the floor, and mock-curtseys. " - If His Eminence Grace is finished with me, may I retire to my quarters and prepare for luncheon?" She takes a demure stance, head coyly angled to the floor.  
  
"Thy mays't run along but dither not, for thee shalt not permit tardiness." We both chuckle at the facade before she vanishes to change her shirt. Thankfully out of sight, as I don't want another eyeful of her at the moment. Well I do, but, ah hell, whatever.  
  
"Urblemurblemumph....." A pale, thin red-head, who sat down the moment we stopped for lunch and promptly fell asleep, grumbles eloquently in her slumber, rolling over to face me, which provokes the drool which has been seeping in a never-ending trail from one corner of her mouth to begin a slow traverse over to the other corner. I wonder if I'll have to wake her up before it arrives.  
  
("I need foooood.") A furry yellow bundle quails from somewhere near my feet, presumably in a state of abject starvation. Her pleas, persistent but also trying to lie undetected by anyone but it's intended hearer (namely me) reminds me of something, something from not long ago. Can't figure out what.  
  
"You're going to have to wait. I need hot water for rice, and tea. Unless you want to go back to eating Pokemon food?"  
  
("I'll pass.") She mutters, with such disdain that I smirk agreeably. She once challenged me to eat some, when I asked her why she was stealing my food for the third day in succession. I did, and it was like, well, nothing at all really. The taste sensation of stewed cardboard, and the wondrous consistency of damp soil. I told her how it seemed to me, and she'd asked me why I thought it'd taste any different to her?  
  
"Don't blame you." I asked her why she hadn't mentioned it before. She said she'd grown up on wild food and then on Pokechow, and that you don't miss what you've never had. True. All the thought of food strikes a bell in my mind.  
  
("Bugger!") Looking back up, I see Chikorita craning to try and see exactly what piece of bandaging she's just ripped through over-enthusiasm.  
  
"Minkle, sundymurf." Misty seems to agree with her sentiment, unconsciously spouting gibberish in a bone-chillingly threatening manner. This seeming aggression is undermined as fresh globule of saliva bungee-cords out of her mouth, only for it to snap and send it's passenger to a fatal fall, splatting on the ground with a certain finality.  
  
("Hoo boy.") I sense Pikachu didn't find that sight to be too tasteful. Ah, yes, I remember now, that memory. I was walking up a valley, stream flowing to my right, field to my left, and birdsong in the air. Ah, chicks ensconced snug in a nest above me, calling for a parent to sate their hunger. I'd talked to Pikachu about them, and we'd moved along. Chikorita was there that afternoon, Cyndaquil too, all of us strolling idly, massaged by the August sun. Idyllic tranquillity.  
  
And but a few minutes later, everything went to hell.  
  
And not a moment of peace has soothed this mind since.  
  
("Speaking of food, wouldn't getting hot water be easier if you actually put the water on to heat?") I blink stupidly as I notice the fire crackling merrily away beneath the smoke-blackened pot, which has served as a cauldron for many months. And the gallon jug of water sat patiently a yard away from it, still holding captive it's fluid occupant. I also notice the oddly darkened smoke, and the smell assaulting my nostrils.  
  
"SHIIIT!" I lunge forwards and, in a vain attempt to undo the damage already done to my geriatric pot through setting it empty on a hot fire for several minutes, pour the entire jug of water straight into it.  
  
It was as I tipped the container past the point of no return I realised that it was also a very, very stupid thing to do.  
  
HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS...........clink, clink, cLUNK......Searingly hot aged metal plus freezing river water multiplied by sheer idiocy equals:  
  
One broken pot.  
  
"Oh, bollocks."  
  
("What?! Oww!")  
  
"BAAASTAAAARD!"  
  
("Now what, there goes lunch!")  
  
"Smumf? Eh?! Wassamatta?"  
  
Join up the statements to the speakers if you want something to do while I stop myself from screaming. Won't be a moment.  
  
"What just happened?" Misty drowsily leans up to a sitting position, peering owlishly through half closed lids.  
  
"I think it just went to the heaven of rust." Hazel comments, coming over from where she'd emerged for a closer look. There's not much to see, only a big puddle, a few wisps of steam and smoke from a drowned fire, and a side- dish width hole in the floor of what had been, up until this point, a cooking pot.  
  
("How did that happen?") Chikorita asks curiously, examining the damage with what could be called reverence.  
  
("I think it was bad luck.") Pikachu answers without a thought, equally respectful.  
  
("When something overheating cools, it contracts, and if it's weak, it breaks. I think it's something everyone should remember.") For a moment, we all stare at one another blankly. Then, as one, we revolve to the source of the voice. There, sat two yards away atop a low branch, is a dark, faintly smiling face. A very familiar smiling face.  
  
"Cyndaquil!" Five voices echo simultaneously, with tones ranging from relieved to outright delighted. Except for one, which sounds matter-of- fact. I give Misty a hurried glance before returning attention to my returning friend. She looks like she doesn't give a flying proverbial.  
  
("Where have you been?! I've been really worried!") A pale green blur cries, hurtling past me. She dives towards our smiling visitor, although his smile falters and eyes grow wide as it becomes rapidly apparent that Chikorita's headlong rush isn't going to end before it reaches him. And so it proves, with her smothering him in a high-velocity, maximum impact, all- encompassing and downright ludicrous glomp. I guess someone should've warned her..  
  
("YEEEEOOOWWWW!!!!!!!!") ...That this is not a good idea when you happen to have fractured ribs.  
  
("Whoah. Thanks, I had wax in that ear.") Cyndaquil rubs the ear that just received a one-hundred-and-fifteen decibel scream, before turning his attention to a groaning Chikorita. ("What's the matter?")  
  
("My-aaah ribs, they're s-sore. Eeesh!") She muffles a squeal as Cyndaquil has a gentle preliminary prod.  
  
("Nasty. How did this happen?") The silence is more deafening than Chikorita's scream. He glances at each one of us in turn, and I see Pikachu look down. Misty has barely even acknowledged his presence yet.  
  
"There was some, uhm, unpleasantness." Hazel murmurs eventually, nudging a loose stone with her toe.  
  
("Unpleasantness.") Cyndaqul repeats the phrase with icy neutrality.  
  
"Yes."  
  
("Oh. Well, I'm sure I'll find out more later. Anyhow, wasn't lunch on the cards?")  
  
"It was until someone destroyed the pot." Hazel cheerfully replies, returning to inspecting the pot for possible repair, or more likely, scrap metal value. She probably would try and salvage it for a few pence if she could. "Now, I'm no expert, but my guesstimate is that the person in question, with a stunning piece of thinking and logic, has written off our best, nay only, cooking appliance." Her airline hostess tone - genial, yet vacuous, indicating my carelessness with false joy, is really starting to get right up my nose. "It should also be noted that he also managed to put out the fire, and waste all of our water supply, in the same fell swoop. Masterful!" In fact, it's gone so far up my nose that it's coming out of the top of my head.  
  
"Jesus Hazel, I get it! I know! I know! I'm a bloody idiot! Yes! I don't need any more reminders, so shut up already, would you?!" Hazel cringes visibly as everyone else turns and blinks slowly in surprise as I wipe an errant trace of spittle from the corner of my mouth with a grimy sleeve. I suddenly feel extremely guilty, and sheepish. I shouldn't have snapped off at her like that, not at all, she was only winding me up. Especially after all she's been through because someone else needed a vent for their anger.  
  
"Feh. I woke up to see this? I don't know whether it's a tragic comedy or a comic tragedy and I don't care either." An eerily deadpan voice draws the collective attention away from my outburst, and to Misty as she shoves straggling orange hair over her shoulder and sags back over to her previous resting place, this time propping herself up against a tree and staring at nothing.  
  
("Man, sometimes I want to slap her purple.") Chikorita fumes in hushed tones, earning a nod of agreement from the brown-haired girl.  
  
"And look where that got you yesterday." I chide her, my mind seeming almost foggy. I know it's not like me to get this worn down, but it seems the battle is sliding away from control. I can see it in my mind's eye, a white flag being tied to a bayonet, a solitary man preparing his bugle to play the last post.  
  
("It wasn't me who went off like some ballistic missile because someone sneezed out of cue!")  
  
("Hey! It takes two to tango! Besides, you couldn't have been any more cruel or callous with a fully furnished torture chamber!") As the lone soldier places the mouthpiece to his lips and inhales to begin the last salute, I catch Cyndaquil's ears pricking up out of the corner of my eye, and his look of interest. The bugler pauses, then carefully places his instrument away, pausing to give it a brief buffing with a scrap of cloth. He picks up his bayonet, removes the white fabric from it's end, and stands to momentary attention. Then, prevalent as a hurrcane, proud as a lion, he returns to his guard. The reinforcement has arrived.  
  
(".....Not going to forget this. Not now, not ever!") I've missed half a conversation with that little flirt with my imagination, but I already know what it contained. Nothing worth hearing, that's for sure. I've listened to it for too long, never before did I realise it wasn't worth straining my ears for.  
  
"Damn it, give it a rest!" The two warring Pokemon fall silent, probably in shock from my outburst.  
  
("I think you two need a time-out. Starting now.") Cyndaquil holds up a forepaw, stilling the protests grasping at the protagonists' lips. ("Save it for later. Nothing good will come out of this now.")  
  
("But I didn't - ")  
  
"Chikorita, shut UP!" Hazel spins around in fright and Misty creaks open a bloodshot eye as my voice reaches jet engine volume. "I've had ENOUGH of this! All I've had, day after day, is bickering! Bickering, jostling and complaints! All of you, all the time, fighting about everything and nothing....." I trail off into silence as I register the gazes fixed on me, which makes my rant choke like a body hanging from a noose.  
  
("Well you should listen to what he's saying, y'all.") Cyndaquil drawls, trying to hide his own unease at the situation he's strolled back in to. ("Don't you think that I left the kitchen because it was getting a little too hot for me?")  
  
"......."  
  
"......."  
  
"......."  
  
"......."  
  
Don't try too hard to match those statements up to the speakers, silence is silence after all.  
  
"Do you think it'd be an idea to get going? I mean, we're not going to have the chance to eat here, not now." Hazel suggests, stretching vigorously. She's not fooling me, I know how much she's dreading getting to Cerulean. But at the same time, she has to sooner or later. And I'll be there every step, whether she needs me or not.  
  
"Yeah. Don't feel like lunch anyway." A collective glance from the group says it all as Misty clumsily slides her bag over her shoulders, only saved from an ungraceful tumble by the tree trunk she's reclining against. Cyndaquil notes it, and then looks up to me. I nod in response, telling him 'yes, they know'.  
  
("Let's roll people.") Pikachu chirps semi-cheerfully as Hazel moves to take the lead, using the directions I gave to her earlier. I look down at the back of my hand, smile, lick my fingers and rub off the dark ink staining it At least that's done with for a while.  
  
"We should make Cerulean in a couple of days. Then I can show you all around with my informal tour, should you feel like it." The brown-eyed girl winks seductively at me before heading towards the most convenient path heading in roughly the right direction.  
  
"Looking forward to it." I try to ignore Misty's empty yet accusing gaze as I pick up my pack. A tearing sound, indicating the shoulder strap's resignation from it's job draws wide attention, and the resultant crushing of Pikachu draws laughter (particularly caustic from Chikorita). Did I call my pack faithful earlier? Well I think it's physical ability has finally outdone it's spirit. In other words, it's got so old it's broken. I suppose I should be more direct sometimes, like I used to be, but that's just how I've matured.....  
  
"Are we going, or what?" An acidic tone from a previously gentle sounding red-head makes me flinch, but I decide to just get on with things for now, deal with my worries surrounding her later. Picking my bag up in my arms and scanning the area a final time, I spy a stray book. One I recognise soon as setting eyes on it. A Christmas present of mine from the yuletide period past to someone intensely special to me. I just wish she would see how special now, right when she needs to. Later, Ash, later. Let's get moving for now. I follow Chikorita's in slightly limped footsteps as she chats easily to Cyndaquil, heading South. Not too long now until we reach our destination, and the fat hits the fire.....  
  
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"Damn it, and I wanted to get to Cerulean today too!" Ash throws down his 'handbag', as Hazel coined it, and almost holds back from giving it a swift kick. Almost. Difference number one noted.  
  
"Ah, whatever. I'm in no rush." The brown-haired girl at his shoulder sets her equipment on the floor more petitely, and then, with unbridled enthusiasm, flits off to look around. Difference number two noted.  
  
("You might not be, but someone else is!") Pikachu scolds, sloping up to us morosely.  
  
"Well it must be someone else, since I'm not." Misty droops into the area, hair scatty and frame scarecrow-like. Big, big difference number three written down in really big humongous letters.  
  
("Let her be. Give her some fun, not like she's had her fair share so far.") Chikorita commands, limp-strutting in behind us all but with her head held high. Difference number four. As everyone settles to their own devices, save for a second-long silent battle between the two usual suspects, I plop myself down to watch each and every one of them. Well, barring the sprightly Hazel, who is already out of sight. She sure has changed from when I last saw her.  
  
"....rige! We're only five miles away!" Speak of the devil.....She spears back into view, cheeks flaring rose red from excitement and exertion.  
  
"What?" Misty snaps like a flytrap, huddled in the shelter of her usual revision book.  
  
"The Birch Bridge! It's just over there!" She points off opposite me, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Anyone from Cerulean knows it, it's the famous footbridge built more than a hundred years ago by the city to allow easier travel!" She grabs Ash by the hand, pulling him away from where he's trying to set up a tent. "Seventeen people died making it and fifty more have fallen off it in the past, but it's a really popular landmark. How cool is that? Some say it's the greatest thing ever made in the Nineteenth Century! Come see!" Ash gives up resisting, and allows himself to be led, Chikorita following them both, whether out of curiosity or desire to leave the others alone I don't know.  
  
"That? Feh, it's not a real bridge." Misty mutters disdainfully, flipping a page.  
  
"So what if it's not up to the level of most bridges these days? Who cares?" Hazel bats away the dismissal like it's a fly.  
  
"It's not up to any level any more." Comes the sniggered reply as Ash is half-led, half-dragged away by the over-enthusiastic brown-haired one. The odd couple, I guess you could call them. Don't know exactly where they stand with each other, only that they stand together. They even look alike. I could always see, in my minds eye, them being brother and sister, nothing more. But now, now.....  
  
("I'm going to sleep.") Pikachu announces to the world, before curling up against Ash's bag and putting her head down.  
  
"Enjoy." Misty mutters, still transfixed on her book. And silence reigns. It settles quilt-like across the scene, wrapping the three of us into our own private worlds. I let my eyes drift shut, reclining back against the bark of a Willow tree. Ash and Hazel. Is it so impossible? No, it's not any more. Images flit like fireflies across the inside of my eyelids. Even in the short time I've been back, so much has changed.  
  
**"Damn it! And I wanted to get to Cerulean today too!" Ash, dropping his back and giving it a thudding kick, frustration and worry lined into his face clear as the full moon shimmering in the night's sky.....  
  
("It wasn't me who went off like some ballistic missile because someone sneezed out of cue!")  
  
("Hey! It takes two to tango! Besides, you couldn't have been any more cruel or callous with a fully furnished torture chamber!") At the sound of raised voices he looked like he was going to cry. He looked down at me, and suddenly his mask of strength slipped back on.....  
  
"Jesus Hazel, I get it! I know! I know! I'm a bloody idiot! Yes! I don't need any more reminders, so shut up already, would you?!"**  
  
Back, back before Hazel's night of revelation, these things wouldn't have happened. Truthfully, I can barely think of a time he would snap at so little. Well, not since he was twelve. Looks like I came back just in time, he needs support from somebody. So busy trying to keep everyone else afloat that he's sinking himself. Just like that analogy I made, back that night. Without another to hang onto, he'd been slipping below the waves. At least I'm back now, hope that makes a difference. At least one good thing to occur is his friendship with Hazel. Hazel, what a difference a few days can make. Like a cat tied in a Hessian sack, noose around her neck, about to be thrown into the river, knowing if the fall didn't get her the water would. But, against all her expectations she's been pulled out of the uncaring hands which gripped her with fatal malice, and released. Now she has an ally, a life and a purpose.  
  
"Isn't it brill?!" She almost dances back into the clearing, enthusiasm seeping from her every pore like water from a freshly-dipped sponge.  
  
"It's, uhm, abrupt." At the sight of the slightest faltering of Hazel's prodigious smile, Ash adds: "But yeah, it's really interesting!"  
  
("It's different from any other bridge I've ever seen.") Chikorita murmurs thoughtfully, casting a glance back over her shoulder.  
  
("Could we use it to cross?") Pikachu asks, careful to avoid eye contact with Chikorita as she snorts in derision.  
  
"I doubt it." The black-haired man slips a glance over at Misty, who hasn't even recognised their return, before wincing.  
  
"Hey, if she wants to be little-miss-misery, let her." Hazel brings her hand, well, gradually back to her side, having pinched Ash to make her point. The fact she pinched him in a normally off-limits portion of his anatomy (and with a big grin on her face while doing it too) doesn't go unnoticed, and neither does the fact she seemed intent on rubbing it better too. "After all, you'll get a better view looking at me, as you know very, very well....." What does she mean by that?  
  
"Hazel, um, do you think we could save this for later?" Ash has gone red, the sort of shade normally reserved for snooker balls and tarty lipstick.  
  
"Oh, I suppose I could save it all for later, I mean, you taught me that lesson, didn't you?" She moves to face Ash, slipping him a wink so slick it could be used to oil a rusty hinge. "And I remember it well, it was like we were, oh, bareing all to one another....."  
  
"Buh....." Now he's so red he almost looks like he's been bleeding from a head wound. But what the hell is Hazel going on about? I'm about to open my mouth, when.....  
  
"Ah, can't I get any peace and quiet around here?" Misty flaps her book shut, and slowly gets up, all eyes trained on her.  
  
"Hey, not like we're screaming at each other, or anything. 'sides, this is, y'know, our camp?" Hazel plants a gallon of emphasis on 'our'.  
  
"Guess that means it's mine as well, so a little consideration for someone who's trying to prepare for her future, which, may I add, is decided in a couple of days, would be appreciated." All said in a dull monotone.  
  
"Yeah, sorry Misty, we'll keep it dow-"  
  
"Like hell we will!" Brown hair whips around wildly as the girl hanging on Ash's arm shakes her head vehemently. "If you want 'peace and quiet' you can find your own, don't try pullin' it from us!"  
  
"Us? I don't see much us about this." Same as Hazel did for 'our', Misty pays special emphasis to 'us'. "Besides, you're making such a racket now that even the fish in the river are swimming for cover."  
  
"Hey! Ash agrees with me! Just because you're a misery, it doesn't mean you can force it on the rest of us." Hazel snarls, totally at odds with Misty's almost eerily serene and dispassionate expression.  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't keep forcing yourself on him? You've been clinging to him like some lovesick barnicle for the last few days, and frankly, it's making me nauseous." Finally, a flicker of the Misty I know, hands onto hips, leaning forwards, voice growing a steely edge.  
  
"Hmmm, well, he is as pleasing on the hands as the eyes." To emphasise the point, she slides a hand up Ash's torso, coming to rest on his chest. I can see steam beginning to come out of Misty's ears. On Ash's part, however.....He doesn't even seem to be in there. Hazel may as well be clinging to a clothes dummy.  
  
"He doesn't seem quite so pleased about your hands. In fact, I'd say he was about to run off and take a damn good wash, just to get the scent of you off him." The sentence ends in a full-out yell, and Hazel smirks snidely.  
  
"After having a damn good wash, as you put it, we could barely keep our hands off each other....." Ash now has his eyes closed, and I can see him counting to ten. He's on four already.  
  
"What the hell do you mean by that, you damn hussy?" The cerulean glare grows hot enough to melt steel.  
  
"That's all for your imagination to decide. Pretty much like how Ash measured up when we're both tongue-tied, if y'know what I mean!" Shit. She's got to be making this up, hasn't she? But then again, her newfound confidence might be built on more than trust, maybe love too -  
  
"Liar! Why the hell would Ash want to kiss someone like you?" Misty takes a threatening step forwards.  
  
"Well he obviously doesn't want someone like you, someone who's wasted, bitter, twisted....." She's silenced by a beast of a right hook. Hazel looks stunned, then almost instantly scared witless.  
  
"Shut your face, you dirty little slattern." I don't know what that means, but she sure does. The fear is displaced by a look of intense hatred just as quickly.  
  
"Fuck you, you, you BITCH!" She lunges at Misty, claws out, as Ash reaches ten.  
  
"Cut it out! Enough!" He grabs Hazel around the waist, and plonks her down unceremoniously behind him.  
  
("Time out!") Chikorita wails, eyes moist.  
  
"Ah, to hell with it. I'm out of here. I can't stand the sound of a snake hissing the whole time." Misty's stony facade drops into place, and indifference resumes. "It's not like it matters, anyway."  
  
"I'm outta here for good, you bastard! No-one, ever, ever calls me that!!" Hazel storms to her bag, and hauls it up.  
  
"Hazel, don't go anywhere." Ash's voice is so leaden with command that she drops her bag to the floor before she even realises she's doing it.  
  
"I'll see you this evening." Misty picks her textbook up, and slopes past Ash. "Enjoy your time with your hussy, Ash, I'm sure you'll feel like cleaning your teeth before going to bed." With that, she's gone.  
  
"Slattern, I'll give her slattern.....slattern, of all the things to call me.....not that name, not that....." Hazel curses under her breath, trying to conceal the salty water spilling down her cheeks.  
  
("Well, things get better and better") Pikachu grunts, lost for something to do.  
  
("Yeah.") Chikorita agrees unthinkingly, wiping away tear tracks. She always has got upset by others fighting.  
  
"God, Misty....." Ash studies the swaying branches announcing the red-heads exit morosely, before moving over to Hazel and crouching down to her, hand placed on her shoulder. A few seconds, and Hazel turns and wraps her arms around him, clearly crying into his shoulder. Groaning at the scene, I turn back to Pikachu.  
  
("Fancy going to find out why we can't use this bridge to cross?") I suggest, and she nods, desperate as I am to get out of what has become an all too familiar picture. We both head off, through the undergrowth, the sounds of water growing prominent in our ears, and then we come to the bank.....And stop.  
  
Two monstrous, gothic, and very mossy stone pillars, Kingdras sat proud atop them on this side. The same on the other side. And not a thing in between. I peer over the edge, noticing a few craggy shapes sticking out oddly from the river, while Pikachu reads what looks like a recently erected plaque on one of the statues.  
  
("Here is the Birch bridge, the first ever cross-Cerulean River building. Constructed 1894, destroyed by arson 1997..... I guess that's why we can't get across.....")  
  
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2.30AM, July 22nd. Everyone seems to tell me that failure is nothing to be ashamed of, I tried and tried, but right now I'm not cut out for this. They say that you only learn from your mistakes. They repeat time and time again that life isn't over, it isn't the end of the world. But for me, for me it is. Because I've always known, known what they thought I didn't. That failure is for the weak. Who remembers the valiant loser? It's never written in the record books "And so-and-so came a tight second, fighting against the odds to the very end." The one who was once my best friend reminded me once that the reason he was no longer was because I'm weak. My family history is composed of triumphs, never a mention of the endless pitfalls encountered in life. Maybe there'll be time in the future, maybe there'll be a reprieve and I'll go on to my dreams. Or maybe the horse has bolted, the door shut, the case closed. Maybe I'll never find out, not see the future given to me. It's a choice which is always there, sitting on my shoulder, covering me in a shroud. Why am I crying? My tears are a waste, I should've used the energies to help myself, not in useless despair after the fact. I don't know why the other two are still with me, one looks like leaving, she doesn't have time for me any more. I don't see why she should, we got off badly in the first place. It seems so long past. Oh, god, I've just woken someone up, I can hear them moving towards me, I don't want to be seen like this but I can't stop sobbing, just writing and crying, writing an obituary to a life wasted.....  
  
"Misty?" A cautious voice, underlain by tones of confusion, drift into my distraught ears. I was right, I was right.....  
  
"Yes?" My mouth seems dry as a dead lake. I shut the diary with a definite 'clap', and face the intruder through a bleary screen of tears.  
  
"Why are you still up?" The figure, still ensconced in shadow, seems to peer at me with eyes lit by moonstones. "And away from the campsite?"  
  
"Why not? It's not a crime to be awake. Or to move." I try to choke off the tourniquet gripping at my throat with these few words, but the hands tightening the noose will not give.  
  
"But it's late, really late. I've never known you to be up at this time, well, not since you first met me." Ash edges up to me, words casual, body terse as a bowstring.  
  
"Things change." He moves to within a foot of me, and now I can vaguely see the face of my first true love. He seems anxious, almost to the point of despair, but at the same time, he's strangely curious. I can see a pitched battle taking place between the desire for truth and the comforting blanket of ignorance. Hell, I remember that fight within me, just a couple of weeks back. And the truth came out victorious every time.  
  
"But you haven't, never like this." I incline away from his presence, wiping my eyes, and wrapping my arms tight around my torso.  
  
"That's not up to you. None of your business. My life." He shakes his head, dark bangs barely visible in the gloom.  
  
"But can't you see what you're doing to yourself....." I throw my diary to the ground, with vehemence cultured by a flare of anger.  
  
"What I do to myself is for me to decide. What I'm doing is getting rid of the waste, the needless parts of me." I feel eerily calm saying the words, my earlier turmoil easing as I stop, look down, and pinch my belly. A sharp burst of delight flows through me at the pitiful fold of flesh which my fingers can barely purchase. But still, still too much. "I've always been a waster, hopeless. Now I'm improving myself. To walk on the snow and not soil it's virginity with footprints, isn't that enough of a dream to inspire someone?" I chuckle dryly, waving a disparaging hand at him. "Well, obviously it's not to you, but if I expected you to understand I wouldn't be explaining myself, ne? Needless to say, I need to keep getting better, every day, every way. And why am I explaining myself to you anyway?" I finish angrily, realising that I don't have to. Why the hell should I? My life, my body, my mind, not his.  
  
Silence from him. Anger from me.  
  
"So don't even ask, since refusal often offends."  
  
More silence. More anger.  
  
"For fuck's sake, stop staring at me like I'm a piece of meat, you pervert. Better still, go back to bed, back to your little dreamworld, back to where you can have fantasies about Hazel getting her kit off so you can get your rocks off."  
  
More silence. Anger at his stare reaching explosion.  
  
"Will you just fuck off? Get lost? I didn't ask for any company. If you don't get out of my face fast, I'm gonna have you arrested for stalking." I glare up at him, fury reaching apoplectic levels as my eyes begin to stream once again, seemingly of their own accord. "If I say please? Okay, please, with sugar, honey, syrup, and every-other-fucking-sweet-thing-you-could- ever-name on top, underneath and dripping down the sides. How's that for being nice?" The coastal breeze makes those disgustingly irresistible bangs waver slightly, his gorgeously hideous hazel-rimmed gaze unfaltering in it's pursuit of my face. A tiny fissure appears in my sea of fury, a fault allowing a jet of steam to emerge, announcing it's freedom with a scream.....  
  
"GO AWAY!! JUST GO!!" Just as the words from my mouth rent the air as a knife parts flesh. Still not a word. I can feel the enmity radiating from my rancorous glare, battling to rake some reaction from his. Still nothing.  
  
The fissue creaks just a little wider.....  
  
"G.O. A.W.A.Y. You stupid, arrogant, two-timing JERK!"  
  
Not a move does he make.  
  
Wider, wider still, inch by inch.....  
  
"DON'T Make me MAKE you, Ash, I'm warning you, don't FUCKING PUSH ME!!" I screech, fingernails just itching to rake the skin from that foul, foul face, the one that can remind me.....  
  
Not a breath does he take.  
  
Inch, by inch.....And then it tears in two.  
  
"LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU BASTAAAARD!" I launch myself to my feet, and then at Ash, clawing like a hysterical tomcat. Trying to gouge his eyes, to stop those little spotlights of truth shining on me, to let me go back to the shadows that I cultivate, the isolation that allows me to grow my fury, make it strong, make it deadly. "SON-OF-A-BITCH! Why won't you GO AWAY! GO! AVANTE! PISS OFF! GO SCREW A DOG! GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY HIDE-AND-GO-FUCK- YOURSELF!! I don't CARE what you DO, so long as it's NOTHING to do with ME!!" I land a set of parallel scratches across his cheek as he seizes my arms tightly, still peering at me silently. Hands tied, I resort to kicking, trying to headbutt that infuriating face, all the time screaming at him. With every word I've ever used in anger and some I've never dared to use before. "Let me GO! You, you, YOU CUNT!!" I land a blow with my head, drawing blood from his lip. But all the while, the blistering hurricane of hostility which has blown me on, has filled the sails of my rage, is dying inexorably, with it dies the blind assault.  
  
And I flow slowly into the calm waters of despair. With it, flows the tears.  
  
"Let me go, please, let me go, Ash, please....." My fists, now release, beat gently against his chest, while my head rests into the cushion of his shoulder, eyes running brook-like with water. "I can't handle this, I can't do this, I can't, I can't, I ca-" A wrenching wail waylays my wavering words, and I bury my face deep into the black cotton of his shirt, trying to hide away from the world through him, rather than through languishing in the darkness.  
  
"Shhh, Misty. It's okay, it's okay....." That's all he says. All he says, like he truly believes it. All he says, as I wail and cry the night away, second after second wasted by my life, swimming through the cloying lake of memories, of chances lost, pitiful victories, gruesome mistakes and useless actions. Too much, too much for me to take. I give up with any doomed attempt to comprehend them, to float amongst the sticky treacle of disgust, so I let myself sink, the murky waters closing over me, blinding the sun from viewing my feeble form, returning to the darkness from whence I came.  
  
"It's not, it's not. Nothing is okay, nothing will ever be okay. Nothing, ever." I let him guide me down to my former seat, eyes still closed tight, buried deep into his shoulder. Even as he sits I keep my hold, holding on, as my life depends upon it. My umbilical cord, my tourniquet, my umbrella under rain and shine.  
  
My Ash.  
  
But is he? Is he mine any more? Or have I lost him?  
  
"There, that's better." Ash draws back, and despite my attempts to remain nestled in the burrow of his neck, I feel air on my face, sense the separation, although still my world is black. Through the blind darkness, comes his voice. "Come on Misty, open your eyes." Although I balk at the thought, his voice is persuasive as a crowbar. My heavy lids creak open, to encounter a pair of dark tan irises which are peering at me with imploring intensity. I shy away, averting my fragile gaze, still sensing his orbs boring into me from barely inches away.  
  
"Ash, why are you here?" I moan morosely, casting my sight to the ground, gaining solace from the dirt and grime of the forest floor. That's just about perfect for me, the equaliser, the ideal parameter. Just about the level I equate to.  
  
"I heard you go. I stayed awake for a while waiting for your return. When you didn't, I got nervous, and came after you." Right.  
  
"Why did you get nervous?"  
  
"Since I didn't know where you were going. Besides, I've been concerned about you for too long now." As I thought, worried about li'l Misty, the depressive maniac, who's a danger to herself.  
  
"Oh. Okay." I slide away from Ash, trying to resurrect the barricades that make up Misty the brave.  
  
"Hey, don't rush off, I'm not done with you yet." To my chagrin, Ash slides along to my side, almost to touching distance. Seeing that the only other option I have left is to slide off my seat completely, I perch precariously on the end of the log, praying for Ash to vanish, and leave me in peace. Fat chance. "What's up, Misty? I know something is for sure, but I want to hear it from you." Well, he can keep on wanting.  
  
"Nothing really." Really. What a crap word.  
  
"Really? Come on Myst, I know full well you've been skipping meals." His statement freezes me my seat. How to reply, how to reply?  
  
"Ahhhh, well, it's not like I need much sustainance. I can get by on just a little." That's as good as an admission.  
  
"But why?" Ash probes me with his brown eyes, those I despise beyond the devil but adore beyond god.  
  
"It's all I need. All I.....deserve." Silence is golden, only now it's a leaden weight, dragging me further and further under the surface with every moment of his wooden stare. Still, again, he says not a word, which is the hardest thing to listen to. Then, he does something which paralyses me. He lays his hand on mine. My sight jerks down to my lap, where his palm is sweetly caressing mine, and then traces up his arm and neck to his face.  
  
Our eyes meet.  
  
And I know I just can't resist him any more.  
  
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I pull back the blue curtains, and smell the moist summer breeze. Mmmm, love that smell. Always has been my favourite season, summer. Somehow the little shadows in life are chased away by the gorgeous light of the sun. It's just about the only time of the year we get bathed in warm sunshine. Or any sunshine, for that matter. If I had to pick one thing that Cerulean city could export, it'd be rain. Some people are proud of having the wettest city in the whole of Kanto. Me, I can't stand the rain. But it's a part of life I guess. Anyway, enough moaning about the weather, this is one of my few days off, and I'd enjoy it if Hurricane Zappa decided to pop by for a visit.  
  
Now to try to get that boyfriend of mine out of bed. Easier said than done. His resources of sleep always seem to defeat my powers of persuasion. I go to the bedroom door and call him, receiving a muted grunt and the sound of someone rolling over in return. Oh well. I'll give him ten minutes then put one of the cats on his face. That usually wakes him up.  
  
Ahhh, that sea breeze again. Nice. I'm thankful for it, since there's been a bit of a smell hanging around the flat for the last few days. Nothing overly pungent, but it's there all he same, and it's not pleasant. I would say it's something in the fridge that's been there a little too long, but since the fridge is there more for show than content, I doubt that. The thought of a blob emerging from the fridge and taking over the house makes me laugh, it'd be kinda like something out of Cowboy Bebop. Perhaps one of the cats has left a little present of their own behind a chair, I think I'll go on a treasure hunt this afternoon. Now, time for a snack, methinks. Stroll into the kitchen, open the cupboard, and retrieve my private stash.  
  
Dark chocolate digestive biscuits. Not a pleasure on earth greater than this. I pace back into the living room, plop myself down on a chair, and nibble daintily at the ege of one. I then pause, take a look around (just for pride's sake), and then scoff the rest in one. Much, much better. Licking my lips, I brush a blonde bang away from my face and pick up the last one, devouring it at a more leisurely pace. It's been quiet round here recently. Well, comparatively quiet, some areas of every city are a little frayed around the edges, Cerulean more than most. Same with a lot of port towns.  
  
Yeah, this isn't suburbia, but it's mine, and it lets me live my own life until bigger and better things come along. But even with the normal rabble and occasional domestic going on, it has been muted for a couple of weeks. Probably because those two upstairs have been very quiet. It's odd not to hear shouting, screaming, crashing and banging. I haven't seen her from upstairs either, although I'm kinda worried. I have been ever since I moved in here, when I met her coming downstairs with a big black bruise around her eyes, and a cut lip. Strange, she looked at me with those hazel eyes, and they seemed to tell her story without a word spoken. I remember how thin she looked, and the way she hurried out as if being physically chased, returning later with a brown paper bag (concealing a bottle of Jack Daniels) and a fearful expression. I later remember something that sounded like shouting. And then, as I lay in bed wide-awake, looking at the strange new walls, I remember hearing childish tears seeping through the ceiling like blood. I promised I would do what I could for her.  
  
It seemed I could do nothing.  
  
She flat out denied anything was the matter, even when I saw her sat beneath the stairs shivering on cold winter evenings. When I saw her limp out to wherever she was going with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. When I saw her tumble down the stairs 'by accident' as I heard a door slam from above.  
  
I tried to help her, and she wouldn't let me. She wouldn't even come in for a cup of tea when I asked her to, even though I could see the naked desire burning in her pupils.  
  
I tried to talk to the man upstairs. He wouldn't even open the door, although he called me all sorts of things through it.  
  
I tried to contact the social services. They claimed ignorance, but it was clear they had no interest.  
  
I tried to contact the police. They had no interest either.  
  
So, one day, I took things into my own hands. And I think that changed everything.  
  
And now, well, there's no more crying, no more shouting. No more anything at all. I don't know whether to be thankful or fearful. But I did my best...  
  
"Mee-ow?" A black cat, nose and paws graced by white patches, leaps fluidly onto the arm of my chair, sniffing the biscuit with abject curiosity. It's obviously not what she's been hoping for, since she gives up inspection and allows me to pet her, arching her back against the welcome caress of my hands.  
  
"I know, chocolate's not your taste, is it?" I murmur back, running a solitary digit up along her nose and between her eyes. Again, she pushes against the pressure, revelling in the simplicity of my touch. I take a look out of the window as I continue my absent petting, soaking in the peace of the morning, fur beneath my fingertips, and the view through the lace curtains.  
  
Blue water, blue sky. Few better sights that I can recollect. The cat senses my loss of focus, as she bumps against my hand, before giving me an imploring look. One I have no ability to ignore.  
  
"Okay, I know." I grab the rest of the biscuit in my spare hand and finish it with relish, knowing it might be a while until I get to have more. That was the last of them, and I don't get paid until Thursday.....  
  
"Mew?" I feel her stir beneath my fingertips, and, quite clearly offended by my distraction, plants both white-shoed paws on my chest, gazing at me with inquisitive offence.  
  
"Sorry." My right fingers begin searching her fur whilst my left hand reaches for a graphic novel. 'Kare Kano.' That'll do nicely. I try to settle down and enjoy the story, but I feel unable to focus. The image of the girl from above, and her beautiful, deer-like eyes, still flits spectre- like though my very conscious thoughts, disturbing my balance. I'm normally a very together person, despite the flights of my imagination, which are as wondrous and potent as a hawk in flight. I'm oddly edgy, and I almost feel a premonition, one of event and of climax. But never mind. This sort of thing is really interesting to me, but I've been hammered into the anvil of life one too many times to expect something will happen.  
  
Even so, I'll keep an eye open.  
  
My attention must have again wandered, since the cat makes another bid for it, and then decides to go for the easy route by curling up on the chair arm and going to sleep. Ah, that reminds me. I pick her up gently, and set off to the bedroom door.  
  
"Merlin, how about we get that boyfriend of mine up? He's never been able to resist your charms, ne?" I nudge open the door, and call out quietly as I advance towards my target. "Darling, there's someone here who wants to wish you a good morning....."  
  
Needless to say, within five minutes, he was going to get the morning paper.  
  
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Sorry once again, and thanks for reading! Please review if you have time.  
  
I think the next installment might not take so long, at least if a certain friend has something to do with it.....  
  
Dan. 


	12. Goodnight, for now at least

Hiya folks.  
  
Here is what I have of this chapter, and thank you to all those who have supported this story. I'm afraid that I've had little in the way of inspiration in recent times. So, there is little here, as I can't quite make the progress I have previously. Furthermore, due to a combination of events over the last six months, my poor state of health and my work load, I can't honestly see this piece being finished, which is a shame. Anyone who is interested in what I had planned for the future can feel free to mail me, and I'll try and sum up the rest of the plots, along with the un- resolved twists and further changes.  
  
I'd like to say I really am sorry once again to those who enjoyed this story. Maybe sometime I will complete it, I personally would love to. But the way things are now, I will not. So sorry, once again.  
  
Well, I guess I should get on with things.  
  
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Where the River Flows, Chapter XII (Incomplete).---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------Despite the continuing sunshine, I can't help but feel cold today. Maybe being up more than half the night has something to do with it. Maybe the things that happened during the aforesaid half of the night had a little more to do with it. I shudder at the thought, and turn to the business marking out the map for the day ahead, erasing the ambitious plans from the previous day, the pencil line climaxing at our destination rubbed out ruthlessly. I sketch a mark where we are now, and an 'X' on the heart of the city. Hmmm, a little less than five miles, should get there by lunch.....  
  
"I swear if Pikachu steals my mints one more time, I'm gonna skin her alive and turn her into slippers. That's my last packet!" Hazel throws her bag down in disgust, barely missing my left hand, and storms off. I can vaguely hear high-pitched giggling, and the sounds of someone running very hard after someone else, including calls of "give them back!". Hazel and Mints, she used to use them as an alternative to brushing her teeth, until Misty made a jibe about her not having enough teeth already. That wasn't pretty.  
  
("Ow! OWowowowowowwww!") Chikorita again. I TOLD her that climbing trees was a bad idea with her injuries, but boredom can defeat the shrewdest advice. I glance at my watch, then back the the map. So, half-eight, out of here by quarter-to, five miles, say three hours, maybe add half getting through Cerulean, should be there by, oh, half twelve easily. Then, time for some food, and check in to the centre, since Misty doesn't want to see her sisters right now..... A vivid recollection of last night echoes through my head :-  
  
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_I glance at the girl sat at my side, rigid as a steel rod, and try to break the freezing silence. "Tomorrow, we'll be back in Cerulean. I suppose we'll go to the Gym first."  
  
"Why do we need to go there?" She sounds utterly disinterested, statue- esque as those Kingdras I saw at the bridge yesterday.  
  
"Well, it's somewhere to stay. And you could say hi to your sisters again, I know they miss you." Sudden as ica cracks, her demeanor shifts from chilling calm to flaming panic.  
  
"NO!" She seems to physically jolt at the idea, before clamping onto me with the force of a vice. "I can't see them, not them, please not them, please....." For what must have been the thousandth time that night, she lapsed into sobs. I held onto her tightly, rocking gently while willing her with all my heart to stop.  
  
"Okay, we'll stay somewhere else. How about a Pokemon center? They're always happy to help, the one in Cerulean has lodgings attched." I try desperately to keep any tremor out of my voice, hold my tone level. I can't stop a tiny rivulet of water escaping my eyes though, thankfully unnoticed by the girl buried into my side. "They might know you there, but I'm sure Joy will not mind keeping quiet."  
  
"Yeah - " The sobbing slows again, until she's silent and once again sat sentry-like beside me, gazing at a tree. "That might work." She keeps talking as if addressing the tree, never once looking at me. "But you've got to realise, I'm not going to be going out anywhere, I really need to prepare some more....."_  
  
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Enough about that for now, back to the present.  
  
("No breakfast? Well, I will survive.") Cyndaquil lapses down beside the spread map, watching me work.  
  
"And who's fault is it we don't have any food left, hmmm?" I catch his eye and grin, recieving one back.  
  
("You can't blame someone for being hungry after a week in the wilderness, only living off berries and a few root plants. Besides, there was barely enough here for breakfast anyway -")  
  
" - Before you ate it all last night." I finish, his grin growing sheepish.  
  
("Okay, okay.") I shake my head gently, returning attention to the map, just checking for any major problems in our path which could lead to a hefty long-cut.  
  
"But you have to admit, cold beans, gone-off saveloy sausage and chocolate rasins was an interesting meal, if a bit much." I chuckle quietly to myself, forgetting my work. "If I remember rightly, you said something like that yourself yesterday. It went something like : 'I think I shouldn't have had that last - Yuuuurgh.' although I might be wrong about the Yuuuurgh. Maybe more a Yaaaargh." He laughs alongside me, ruefully enjoying the memory.  
  
("I could've eaten a whole side of, well, anything. I'd have even torn the leek from a Farfech'd's grasp. His cold, stiff grasp, after I'd eaten almost everything else.....") He seems to shudder for a second, blinking incredulously at his last statement. ("Sorry, I don't know where that came from. I must still be starving.")  
  
"Well since you oh-so-politely regurgitated our food supply a few seconds after finishing it, I'm not surprised." I chide gently, making an alteration to our path in order to cross a bridge just outside the city. "Although you made the saveloy more edible." I grab the rubber and scrub out a part of my line.  
  
("I'm surprised our food lasted this long, especially with another glutton in the ranks. Honestly, the way Hazel eats, you'd swear that the food came with a recorded message stating that 'This meal will self destruct in..... 'BOOM!!'") I smile widely at the joke, pencil laying ready to draw in the alteration. I slowly etch out the carbon line, only half-listening to Cyndaquil as he keeps talking. ("We've been a bit slow too, I thought we'd be back a day or two ago. Mind you, I haven't been around for a while, that's saved supplies. And Misty hasn't been eatin.....") I bite my lower lip as he trails off, penicl frozen mid-way through it's journey but held with a viciously trembling hand. My eyes fix on a pair of words, just a knife edge from it's point. Cerulean City.  
  
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"_Why should I want to go back?" I shrug idly at her irate burst, maintaining the mask of calm.  
  
"Well, lots of people like to go back to their home town now and then. I would like to spend more time in Pallet than I do." Misty stands stock still before me, staring with chilling fury in her eyes. It takes all my determination to hold eye contact.  
  
"I don't want to go back." She snarls, fingers curling into her plams.  
  
"But you have to. Day after tomorrow, well, tomorrow now, you've got a -"  
  
"I know full well whatI have today, tomorrow, whenever it is. Doesn't mean I have to like the fact I'm setting foot in that sewer again." Her rage seemingly over, she sits down beside me, back ramrod-straight and arms set rigid in her lap.  
  
"What is wrong with Cerulean? It's not heaven, but -"  
  
"What's wrong with Cerulean? I'll tell you....."_  
  
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("Ash? Ash, if you don't say something this second, I'm going to, uhm, to, aaah, oh hell, just say something!") Cyndaquil's worried tone reaches me, and I lift the pencil from the map, trying to ignore the puncture the tip has just made through the paper.  
  
"Could you go and get Chikorita out of the tree? I want to get going soon, and I know how much fun she thinks it is to pretend she can't hear me telling her to get down." He blinks slowly at my tone, which is devoid of emotion, before muttering a heartfelt 'sorry' and trailing off to where Chikorita's sprightly laugh is eminating from the Oak she's hiding in. My eyes watch an acorn smacking the returning Hazel in the back of the head, apparently much to her displeasure. But my mind doesn't register the scene, it's set off on another flight of memory.

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_"Everything, that's what."  
  
"Everything?"  
  
"Yes. Everything."  
  
"How can everything be wrong with Cerulean?"  
  
"Because it's Cerulean. You didn't grow up there. You didn't know what it was like." She starts fiddling with her hair, a sure sign of worry.  
  
"Then why don't you tell me?"  
  
"Because I haven't got a week to spare." I glance to the sky, which is still only lit by the radiant moon.  
  
"But you've got all night." Misty sighs, gazing at her knees, fingers still twiddling with a stray lock of hair. Seconds pass. Minutes. All the time, staring down, hands moving restlessly. I feel my attention growing hazy, as the adrenaline and determination used through the dark hours begins to demand payment. Like the waves lapping at the shore as the tide approaches, my eyelids waver, dip, and inexorably slide closed.....  
  
"It all started when I was around seven or eight" And they are wrenched open with a start as Misty's quiet, almost child-like tone enters my ears. "Not long after my parents became proprietors of the gym. When we were just some fairly affluent family who kept and trained pokemon, I was kinda spoilt, but happy. I'd taken after my sisters, loving music and ballet, and playing with water pokemon, along with all the usual little girl things." She speaks as if she's alone, unaware of my presence, just remeniscing through voice rather than just thought. "But then we took the gym over. Soon as we moved in, everything changed. I remember, I'd injured my leg slipping by the pool and it hurt to bend it. That night I had ballet, and I didn't want to go. My parents as good as dragged me there. My sisters laughed at me when I fell over because of it. It went that way with everything. What was play became work, and there was no choice in the matter." She sighs again, leaning back to gaze upawards, voice still careless. "I was taught, over and over, be the best. No choice. I'm sure my parents loved me, but all I can remember is their ambition. Success was everything. My sisters liked this, since they had looks and natural physical talent. Plus, they always had me to look down on. So I, well, resisted."  
  
"And they didn't like that." The clouds of anger begin to gather on Misty's face, although her words remain calm.  
  
"You could say that. I began to slack off, not refusing to go to ballet or music lessons, but fooling around or ignoring tutors while there. Of course, they noticed. They began to pressure me more, and I resisted more. What became obvious pretty fast was that they, my mother in particlar, wanted the gym to be less a training gym, more a theater. And all four daugters were to be the showpiece." Memory lane is definitely turning into a dark alley, as my friend's expression and tone grow blacker by the word. "That was where things went wrong. My parents didn't agree on many things, but the key point was the gym's status. Dad wanted battling to share the stage with shows. Mum envisioned the gym to as basically a theater, which I think was her reason for wanting the gym all along. Dad thought that this would remove the gym's status as a gym, which was true. Mum felt that training was not as important as the arts, and that such a grand, historic building would be better served to promote them. On, and on, and on it went, with my sisters and I in the middle." She clenches slim fingers, and I sense she's taken steps into the darkness. "My sisters loved the idea of a showbiz life, and couldn't really give a toss about the pokemon. So, they queued up behind my mother. I loved the pokemon, they were the little light in my harsh life. I couldn't bear the thought of them leaving. I-I couldn't take that....."  
  
"Here, Mist." I hand her a tissue as her voice breaks, eyes, like storm clouds, threatening to overflow. She takes it without comment, just sighing deeply and shaking her head.  
  
"So that was that. Battle lines drawn. Myself and dad against mum and the three sisters. I was a pawn, really, so were my sisters. Mum encouraged my sisters to neglect pokemon, and focus on their obvious artistic talent. In response, dad let me ignore the ballet and elocution lessons, so I could spend more time training, which I loved. My body grew lax, voice rusty. My sisters found yet more reasons to pour scorn on me. It all came to a head when dad actually reported mum to the league representatives. Because I found something.....someone....." She grits her teeth, face now slick with running water, but determined to keep talking. "My mother had been liasing with a major force in the media world, discussing plans for the renovation of the Cerulean Gym, or as they called it, Grand Theater Cerulean. And when I say liasing, well, you can take that word to the extreme. I ran. I told dad. Dad told the authorities. Ruthless as when dragging Hazel's father through the mud, he exposed both the plans and her adultery. The league was disgusted by her behaviour, but even more so her hidden ideas to transform the gym. Dad filed for divorce, everything was kept hush-hush, and mum vanished, intent on making a break with her reputation untarnished. Then the shit really hit the fan." She pauses, talking several deep breaths, eyes shut tight.  
  
"Do you want to stop? You don't have to tell me everything if you can't." She shakes her head gently, hair black in the pale moonlight lapping languidly across her face.  
  
"Can't stop. Stop, can't stop.....No, can't....."  
_  
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Then she did as the sobs came, again. I held her tight, again. It could have been an age until she regained composure, in all likelihood it was only minutes. And then she continued. But I don't really want to remember any more.  
  
("Heeeey Ash! You done yet?") Because I don't want to start crying myself.  
  
"Yep. Give me a second." I fold up the map, stowing it carefully away before hefting my pack onto my shoulders, staggering with the wieght. It's not lost on Pikachu.  
  
("You okay?") She looks worried. After all last night, I must look like I feel. A big, steaming pile of shit.  
  
"Ask me later." An ear twitches, and I expect the spanish inquisition.  
  
("Come on Ash! Time to go. Bring the rat if you want.") Chikorita calls over, not attempting to hide the snide tone. Pikachu stiffens, and looks ready to crush someone's skull before I give her a slight shake of the head. Even so, she clenches her clawed paws into fists and hisses through her teeth.  
  
"Okay, be there now." I cast a glance across the group, Hazel looking nervy, Chikorita unnecessarily perky, Cyndaquil anxious, and then a lingering look at a thin, solitary figure stood slightly apart, head bowed. Not the time for more dreaming Ash, let's get to Cerulean first. So, fire out, yes. Everyone set? Yes. Mind at ease? Nope. Well, two out of three is the best I'm going to get.  
  
Next stop, Cerulean city.

Again, thanks to all of those who kindly reviewed. I hope someday I'll be able to conclude this work, but for now, farewell and goodnight.

Dan.


	13. The Return To Cerulean

Hi! This is Dan, finally back after a long hiatus. At least this is a huge chapter, which I hope will go some way to atoning for the delay!

I'm glad to say I'm going to move onwards with this fanfic, after it's spent far too much time dormant. I'm very thankful to those who kept pushing me to write more, especially smileyali and kawaii cherry blossom. They really have kicked me into gear, and without them chapter 12 would not have been written. Also thanks to Silver Feather and Joy-Girl, and all those that sent me reviews or e-mails about this story and asking for more.

Oh, and by the way, does anyone know why FFnet keeps removing my paragraphing? It's really irritating me...

Well, I suppose I've kept some people waiting too long already, so on with the chapter.

Authors Note:

In the section at the end of this chapter:-

**Mistys' POV**

_Hazels' POV_

_**Joint POV**_

I Hope this makes it easy to read!

Chapter 12 (continued) – The Return to Cerulean.

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We're here. Really here. Every time I see a familiar street name, a shop I'd once lifted from, maybe even a face with a hint of familiarity, I get this really weird feeling. Really really weird. It's like my body fills with helium or hot air, my fingers tingle, my heart skips a beat, sensations growing stronger and stronger each and every pace - yet each and every pace cold fingers wind their way around my stomach and squeeze, squeeze and pull it down to my boots, and each and every time the digits get colder, the clenching stronger. Conflicting, right but wrong, like skipping with an Ekans as the rope, or flying like a Pidgey with a tether secure around my waist. I don't know, don't know if I am happy or sad, relieved or scared shitless. To be here, my 'home'. Well, close. Barely three blocks from this junction. Still, my neighbourhood, not that I was ever really a part of it. There, just there, the old hopscotch pattern still chalked exactly where it was weeks ago when I left, and had been for so long as I remember. Rain or shine, always there, almost always in use. I feel a pang of amusement as a girl well over half my age throws a stone, and then hops like a dervish after it only to find her over-enthusiastic jumping has caused her skirt to flap up and reveal normally concealed clothing to a bunch of now sniggering boys. They slide out of my sight just as a heated argument begins. Heh, in ten minutes time she'll probably just run home in tears and tonight it'll all be forgotten anyway. But the chalk pattern will remain, waiting for another bored kid to throw a stone. I bet that if I scrubbed the stone clear of chalk I'd find the pattern scored into the pavement underneath, irremovable.

The players come and go, but the game is there forever.

Guess that makes sense.

"So, which way now?" Ash slips a sleeve across his forehead, and jiggles his well-worn 'handbag' into a more comfortable position.

"Right here, a few hundred yards, then left. That should get us there." Mistys' pale face snaps up, poorly concealed horror in her eyes.

"No! We're not going there!" I can sense Chikorita and Pikachu both centre their attention on her, each as puzzled as I am.

("And why not? I thought that we were headed to the gym. There's a couple of old friends that I want to say hi too.") Pikachu huffs, looking thoroughly miffed.

"I don't want to go there right now." Fine. Doesn't make a blind bit of difference to me. Seems to to Pikachu though.

("What's the problem? C'mon Ash, there's a Quagsire there that owes me a rematch!")

"NO!" Misty is adamant. I glance down at Cyndaquil to find him looking as puzzled as I feel.

("Ash?") Chikorita peers up at our leader, hoping to stop the fight before it starts. He says nothing for a minute, chewing his lip absently while his gorgeous chocolate eyes study Misty intently. Misty, for her part, is now studying the pavement with equal intent. The rest of us watch, heads flicking back and forth as if watching a fast game of tennis.

"Pokemon centre it is." He holds up a tired hand to stop complaints before they start. "No arguments. Pikachu, we can drop by the gym later. Purely in passing, you understand." He adds, as a pair of cerulean blue irises flick up in warning. "It's pretty near the centre I think. Misty has her reasons, I'm sure, so let's respect them."

("Always their bloody wishes. Whatever happened to respecting mine?") Pikachu mutters darkly, storming past me and after Misty, who has taken the lead in guiding everyone to the Pokemon centre, probably so she doesn't have to look anyone in the eye. This annoys me, but not as much as maybe it used to. I haven't forgiven her for what she said yesterday, no one calls me a slattern, no one. But I do kinda feel sorry for her, she's probably got the same kinda feelings about coming back as I have. I can tell, can see it, she's not keen to be here, there's something, or someone she's avoiding. After feeling that myself for so long, it's easy to recognise. But unlike her, I'm here to stare it down.

("Another day, another quarrel. Sheesh, any more of this and I'm going to retire to a pokeball and to hell with existence.") Cyndaquil sighs from around my feet. We come to an intersection, and I catch sight of the sea, barely a hundred yards away. I pause as my foot enters the gutter, head swivelling to my left and staring down the semi-deserted street. There. Only a short hopscotch away. If I threw a stone hard as I could, and then skip after it, then maybe, just maybe, I'd stop there.

At the doorway.

My doorway.

Then up the stairs, avoiding the loose step three from the top, and seven paces. And then...

Then...

Then...I don't know.

But I do know I'm not quite ready. The freezing fingers holding my belly in a crushing grip tell me this. My trembling lower lip tells me this. The dryness of my mouth is a reminder, in case I don't get the other clues.

"Hazel! Try to keep up, else you'll end up in a room at the other end of the hotel!" Ash calls to me, from quite a distance away. I wave in response, still contemplating the doorway. Not now. No, not now.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow afternoon. And I'm going alone.

Alone. My problem, my mess, my hell. Mine to defeat.

Until then, may as well enjoy the day. I don't want to be lonely now. Tomorrow is mine alone, but today is still here. And if I don't catch up, I might end up by myself. I really don't want that. I want Ash to talk to. And to spy on in the shower, but that's tonight's entertainment. I know a couple of rooms in the pokemon center – stroke - hotel that I'd raided for toiletries and linen back before I left that had dodgy locks. And Ash is such a hunk... Half blushing and half smirking at the vision, which erases thoughts of fear from my mind, I jog after the others, and miss the van pulling up in front of the doorway I had fixed upon only seconds before.

It would have been easier had I stayed and watched.

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I suppose the smell couldn't have got much worse. It was so bad I had to call the public health division and complain. They resolved to see to things 'ASAP'. Now, several days later, ASAP seems a bit of a lie to me. This, it's a putrid odour, an oddly foul and musky scent that is almost visible, some kind of malevolent ghost or spectre that is possessing the whole place through sheer spite. My pets have been edgy too, and my boyfriend, well, he's gone on the offensive with air-fresheners and deodorant. No luck on either count. The promised 'breath of fresh that breathes life into the home' quickly takes on the tone of a gasp from beyond the grave, and the boast of 'ultimate freshness' proves to be no match against the ultimate stench.

"Sheez, it's like someone's died or something! Doesn't he ever throw things away?" My boyfriend moans, craning a hand up to open a window. I ignore him, trying to concentrate on a book. Better than focusing on the odour. I remember when that guy upstairs had left seven bags of rubbish to rot in his kitchen, then it took three visits by 'officials' before he would let them in to do something about it. That was pretty bad, but this is worse.

"Mwoooowrrrrr!" One of my cats expresses her dislike for the situation by scratching hell out of a table leg before waltzing onto the arm of a sofa. I know that the guy upstairs is not a pleasant bloke, and that he hoards rubbish and waste, but it's all getting a bit excessive...

A loud rapping on the main door to the flats causes the cat, once seated on the arm of the sofa, to tumble from it without even a measure of feline grace. I peer out of the window and sigh in relief. They're finally here. I exit the flat and open the front door to the building, directing the members of the public health division upstairs. Finally. That guy upstairs must be saving up out-of-date food again. I head back into the flat to find my boyfriend readying himself to go to work. Eleven-Seven, five times weekly. I don't see as much of him as I would like to, but it helps pay the bills as even with my current well-paid job we need more money.

"Well, I'm off. See you tonight. Hope we can enjoy a candle-lit dinner without the flames burning with a green edge." He kisses me on both cheeks before leaving, and I contemplate the anniversary dinner we have planned this evening. It should be good, we're both reasonable cooks and even better washers up. Half of the fun of making a meal is clearing away afterwards, especially when it leads to a bubble fight or something similar.

A few minutes later, after seeing what they bring down from upstairs, I kinda lose my appetite.

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Here at last. I thought my eardrums were going to burst from the sheer volume of silence. It's not unusual for everyone to be quiet while we're walking, but normally the reason for any the lack of voice is the fact that we're all too busy trying to use the air for breathing. Some of those hills out in the country were pretty damn steep, and that's coming from a hardened walker like me.

"So, that'll be a triple room, for how many nights?" Joy peers up from her computer screen, businesslike smile perfectly in place. She must paint it on every morning, like a clown or something, since it never seems to slip. But I noticed her brief look of suspicion when Ash strolled in with two girls and asked for a triple room. I wonder what she thinks the human portion of the group are going to get up to in it. But credit to her, if you hadn't been watching closely, you would have missed it.

"Uh, we're not sure yet, but it'll be three at least, although….." I tune out Ash's rambling, and let my mind drift onto the image of Joy applying a smile in the morning with a roller and a paintbrush. The whole family must have some kind of secret paint, I reason, because every single one has the same expression. Well, except for the one back in that dodgy town, I _know_ she was up to no good. I could have sworn that she had fangs…..Uhhhh, _really _not good.

"So how are you going to pay sir?" The overly cheery voice of our potential host awakens me from a shuddering fit, and gets me back on to the subject of paint. They could call it Joy-paint, it would work as a play on words because that'd pretty much sum up its effect. It'd sell like lightning, for everyone who isn't a morning person. Be as miserable as you like, Joy-paint keeps you smilin'. I think I could get away without it most mornings, I usually quite enjoy the fresh sparkle of a new day. But it would be useful after those nights when I've been dreaming of fish….. Uhhhh, slimy, slimy fishies…..

"You having a fit Pikachu?" Hazel's loud mouth shocks me out of the second shuddering fit in as many minutes, and I glance up at her to see a tiny smile pinch her mouth. Oddly, I don't bristle at this.

("Nah, thinking about fish.") She looks puzzled, and I shake my head. ("You really don't want to know. It'd put you off Magikarp for life.")

"Oh. Well, okay." After the verbal shrug, she grabs the 'handbag' which Ash had set down and staggers over to the desk, before leaning into the continuing conversation with an expression of interest. Don't know why, all they're doing is trying to work out the price, although if haggling is involved I bet she'll have Joy by the short hairs.

"Cash? Well, fine, but I don't have much change."

"Maybe we can compromise on the price then?" Hazel's grin is almost predatory. Joy looks taken aback, and for a moment, her paint nearly cracks. She also has this look of half-recognition, like she knows Hazel from somewhere and doesn't like it for some reason. But then her smile is back again, albeit wary, and she nods slightly. I reckon Hazel will get twenty percent off, plus an upgrade.

("Son of a-") Chikorita chokes off mid-swear, as she tries to drag another bag across the lobby. Mistys' to be precise, because soon as the redhead reached the welcome mat her bag hit the floor and she wobbled off into the toilets, and has not been seen since. Hope I'm not the one who has to go in and get her.

Misty has been getting more and more irritable and skittish with every step towards Cerulean, but now we're here it's like panic has taken over. I guess I looked like that when a fire blast was coming at me, closer and closer, with no way of escape, in a certain volcano gym all those years ago. I feel a bit guilty at snapping at her earlier, I guess she has reasons for not wanting to go home. All I want is a battle, she's got more important things on her plate. Guess I should respect that. And she's not the only one whose been affected by our return to the city.

"Oh come on, I remember rates here used to be half that - not quite in high season, y'know, but..." Hazel seems to be getting into her stride, something which is always dangerous. She's rough and ready as always, but I remember when she stopped on the pavement, staring off into the distance. She's scared witless, the tremor in her hands and voice a dead giveaway. Seeing her act now I would never have guessed, but to someone observant, it's obvious. Well, that's what Cyndaquil told me anyway.

("I think she'll get ten percent.") Speak of the devil.

("Twenty.")

("Bet you the usual.") I almost hear a chuckle in his tone.

("Three wishes? You're on.") We both go back to watching the argument, or 'discussion' as Hazel put it, now with the bet fuelling our interest. Well, Cyndaquil, goes back to watching it, I instead take some time to examine the blueness of the centre's lobby. I thought I was wading into a giant swimming pool as I came in. The floor was a fetching deep blue, an ocean blue mural of a Horsea fashioned in the middle of it. The walls were tiled a stylish smoke blue with powder blue interspersed forming lots of nice blue patterns. The ceiling a cheery sky blue. The architecture around the place very calming and soothing. And blue. The seats plush, striped with royal blue and what at first appeared to be white, but was in fact very pale blue. The window frames and lamp shades the colour of a Squirtle's shell. All in all, it was really, really nice.

But just a bit too, ah, what's the word?

Oh yeah. Blue.

("They got a redevelopment grant apparently.") Cyndaquil murmurs, seeing my wandering eye. ("The council said they would give it to the owners if it reflected Cerulean City well.") He slips me a sly grin. ("I'm guessing that they were a little over the top.") I chuckle a little, looking up to where the conversation appears to be coming to an end, Hazel looking satisfied if not delighted. Right then, Chikorita nudges Ash's foot, with an obvious wince of pain. I feel a pang of shame at her discomfort as Ash looks down to listen to whatever she wants to add. Whatever it is it needs discussion, as Ash, Joy and Hazel re-open negotiations. I glance to my left, and feel another pang of shame as a clear frown passes onto Cyndaquils' normally mellow features. And I rather doubt that it's got anything to do with the continuation of the argument, but more to do with a small green bundle of bruises.

Why did all of this start up again between us? Really?

Was it Jealousy? Frustration? Exhaustion?

Was I so used to fighting that I had to find someone to hurt for my own sanity?

I know that the last month has not been the easiest, far, far from it. Everything building on everything else, one on another, on another, on another. All of the reasons I've thought of are true. There's always been an edge between us, I was his first, she the one who placed loyalty above all else.

But that's not enough on it's own, none of them are, none of them our animosity, not really. I think the real reason is that the wounds that were opened so wide by that time in Pallet three years ago have never really closed...

I think it's time someone closed them.

"So, that's a triple room, en-suite, with sea view for five days, with the option of extension. So, that comes to..." My daydream reaches an end as Ash hands over the cash and thanks Joy with a smile, one she returns with her pearly teeth gleaming.

"Thanks a bunch!" Hazel chirps, turning away from the desk with Ash. Soon as they do so the professional smile on Joy's face peels off like an unwelcome plaster, and she gives Hazel's back a look of intense, well, not sure exactly what, but intense does sum it up. Looks like I've found the paint stripper for Nurse Joy's gloss finish, and she's currently complaining loudly to my dark-haired partner.

"Aaaa-aaah-ash! I had her price way down! Why did you have to knock it back up?" She puts on a pout, but her eyes are tinged with mischief.

"We don't want to bankrupt the whole company, Hazel." Ash stretches his arms up above his head yawning widely. "Besides, I got us en-suite and a sea view for that ten percent I offered back to her. Not to be sniffed at, plus I'd rather not get lynched when I get up tomorrow. Or should I say today." He yawns again, and I swear this time I can see his tonsils. Tonsils? Mistys' incessant reading must be working on me.

"But in the end we only got half what I had her down to!"

"I'm too knackered to argue with you Hazel. You know quite well that I told you I wasn't going to take any more than ten percent off before we came in here..." I tune out of the conversation to glare at Cyndaquil, who is giving me the sort of grin normally reserved for Meowths who are about to make lunch from an ignorant Spearow.

("Bastard.") I growl, giving him the sort of glare normally reserved for homicidal maniacs who are about to plunge an axe into someone's spine.

("One born every minute. So that's one day of you obeying my commands. Nice. I've got plans for you...") I bet. Last time I had to buy him lunch and dinner, in between fan him while he was watching soap operas. And he _had_ to choose the one that I couldn't stand, where the only thing more offensive than the characters were their accents.

("You really are a bastard.") I forgot my number one, never to be broken rule. Never, ever bet against Cyndaquil. He just shrugs, smug smile smeared across his mouth, before going off to help Ash get Misty out of the toilet. Although I don't think standing near the entrance and murmuring her name at just above whisper level is going to bear fruit.

"Ah, let me." Hazel strides into the toilet, and proceeds to let fly a sentence not normally considered polite in public. It's effective though, as a brown-haired blur flashes across the concourse and up the stairs, followed by a screaming red-haired blur. The four of us all just watch at the staircase until the sound of pounding feet and cursing dissipates, and then simultaneously let out a tired sigh.

It's going to be a long few days.

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Ah, nothing like winning a good bet. And the fact that I knew I would win it before it was placed just adds to the satisfaction.

Everyone sees me as an honest, pleasant soul, who can listen without being judgemental, and discuss without arguing. And, really and truly, I am. I like to see harmony. Prefer peace. And I just enjoy helping people, listening and understanding. Especially Ash. He needs me right now, that's why I came back. Everyone else has him. Who has he got?

So yeah, I love helping people out. And I'm basically honest. I don't think I'm being arrogant saying that.

But it doesn't mean I can't use the fact people believe I'm straight as an arrow now and then. I know Pikachu knows this, but every now and then she'll unwittingly give me a chance.

And this was one I wanted to take.

Because I have _plans_.

I'm going to sort out a problem, which has been going on too long, once and for all.

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Misty likes bathrooms. At least that's how it seems to me, since she has chosen to become intimately acquainted with the one in our triple room only minutes after she got through the door. The door has a lock, but some humorist has removed the knob you twist from the inside to actually activate it. Therefore there isn't a lock that works. Why does this always happen? We never seem to end up with doors that will shut properly. It must be some in-joke among the Joy crew to automatically issue to any party with members of both genders a bathroom door which won't lock. Although, when I was up at the desk insisting that we got several keys, so we could all come and go as wished, I recall Hazel being very specific about this room. Perhaps she just likes the number...

"Yay! Sea View!" Oh, and that. Hazel stops bouncing on the bed, and hurries to the window. I use my vines to lever myself up onto the sill, wincing slightly. Once I've taken in the dying flowers in the window box (they _always_ forget to water them, it really annoys me! Plants have feelings too, y'know!) I join her looking over the ocean.

("It's so pretty...") I breathe.

"Yeah, it's gorgeous." She replies, and she's not lying. There's only one block between here and the coast, and beyond a golden beach the sea shines sapphire blue in the summer sun.

("The sun is fine today.") I comment, eyeing the scene with contentment. ("And you can see right out to the cape, clear as day.") It's like a painting hanging on the wall, this sight. If you put a frame around it, I would have been fooled as I walked in. As I scan the scene, in the middle distance I spy the Cerulean Cape, a place I'd heard much about but never have visited before. Apparently it's a famous place for lovers to declare their feelings. Wish I had someone I could take there.

"I've always loved that cape. Everyone here does, but I love it most." Hazel murmurs, eyes fixed on the same sight as mine. "It was the place furthest from home I could get without actually leaving. At night, when the sun went down, I'd dive into the water and watch the Starmie come to the surface, and imagine that the sky was both above and below, white lights in blackness. It made me feel like I was floatin' in space. And that maybe life was worth living..." She suddenly seems so old, an aged woman looking through the face of a young girl. "I was always dreamin' that, one day, I'd dive into the water and everythin' would all wash off, so I'd climb out of the water with a new life. But that ain't happened yet." She sighs deeply, eyes still locked at the cape but focused miles beyond the horizon. "I want to dive in there, the next time, and come out clean an' new. That's all I want." She turns away, shaking her head. "I know that ain't happened yet. Thing is, maybe it never can." With that she busies herself with her bag, but not before I see a tear seep from her brown eyes.

"Okay, we're all set." Ash puts his portable clock on the bedside table between his and Mistys' bed, having wisely chosen the middle bed of the three. I make a note to grab the end of it for tonight.

"What?" Hazel disguises a sly swipe at her tears by checking her bag closely, before dumping it in the corner and flinging herself onto the bed by the window.

"I said we're all set. Unpacked and tidy. But the first thing I do when we go out is get a new bloody rucksack." He tosses it at the wastepaper bin, which it knocks over. "I was going to ask Joy about where to go to get one, but I could just see her thinking 'I bet he's got contraceptives in his pocket' when we walked in." I laugh at the thought, but Hazel seems confused.

"Contra-whats?" I look at Ash. Ash looks at me. Then, simultaneously -

"Never mind Hazel." She frowns and pouts.

"Ah, c'mon! You know I'm no good at those big words! Gimmie a break." Ash gets a look of resignation on his face and goes over to sit by her, while I go to find Cyndaquil. I find him out in the corridor, looking very pleased with himself. My back stiffens as I see Pikachu coming up behind him, looking less impressed. As I wait for him, I hear Hazel burst out laughing.

"It's not that funny." Ash sounds amused too.

"It is! I thought they're all called Johnnies or something like! Bwahahahaaaa!" Her coarse, bawling laugh is so infectious, especially after her morose mood a minute ago, that I find myself joining in.

"Well, they are, or certain – items are..." Ash's voice cracks, and within moments he's joined in too.

"And you're saying you don't have any Ash? Oh come on, I'm sure you've got 'em for an emergency or something!" Ding! Instant silence. One, two, three...

"Ah, maybe just a couple, you never know!" The people downstairs must be wondering what the hell is going on, since the hysterical sounds are loud enough to drown out thought, let alone noise. As one of them starts to choke on the air, I grab hold of Cyndaquil.

("Are we going out again?") He shrugs before answering.

("I expect so, we could do with some food. Besides, I don't want to hang around here with Misty in the mood she's in.") I nod at this, and head back into the room. ("Hey Ash, Hazel, can we go have a look round?") Hazel tenses a little, but relaxes again when Ash places his hand on hers.

"Don't worry Hazel, if we see him he'll be lucky if he gets the chance to blink." She looks reassured, and nods, moving to put her shoes back on.

("What about Misty?") Ash and Cyndaquil share a concerned look at Pikachus' question.

("I'm sure she'll be fine, I'm sure she's in the bathroom avoiding us rather than because of nature's call.") I silently agree with my flame-backed friend's assessment, and it seems everyone else does too.

"Okay, that's settled." Ash knocks on the bathroom door, and calls through it carefully. "Mist, we're going to head out and get some food. You want anything?" A mumbled response comes out, but it sounds pretty negative. "Okay. We'll see you later, take care, Mist." The way Ash speaks, it's like he's pleading. I wonder why he is so worried, I know that Misty has been unwell recently, but it's not that bad, is it?

"Ash! Let's go!" Hazel has already left the room, and doesn't seem to appreciate the hold-up.

("Yes, yes, keep your hair on will you?") Pikachu grumbles, setting off after her.

("I'm always amazed how fast she can change track.") I murmur, as the rest of us leave the door, and Ash closes it with a quiet click.

("Got to agree with you there.") Cyndaquil replies wryly, as Pikachus' pursuit of Hazel seems to develop into a race.

"But I'm guessing that she might find things here that she can't ignore." Ash adds, as the two in front of us round the corner and disappear into the stairwell, Hazel whooping all the way.

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_**23rd July - Evening. Another day gone by. Nothing seems to be different. I am sorry, m**__**y diary, that I have not written in you earlier. But seconds melt into minutes, melt into hours, melt into days. I know I should've made my choice today. But I didn't. I saw a way out, and took it. Now tomorrow awaits, the 24th. And it's going to be decided one way or the other.**_

_**I wish that tomorrow would never come. Perhaps I should seek a way to prevent its arrival...**_

No. That would just be another way to run. I can't run, it wouldn't be right.

I've only run once before. And yes, that became a wonderful mistake. Without that mistake I would not have had the experiences I have. But such luck can only come once in a lifetime, I'm willing to bet. So I will stand and face my fate. Although there is no way that I can see fate smiling on me...

I go to the window and peer out into the gathering dusk, trying my best to ignore the ghostly reflection that resides in the glass.

They went out, and that was hours past. But that is perfect for me. It left time with my books, allowing frantic attempts at forcing unwelcome knowledge into my uninterested mind. A final fling, a grasp at the cliff edge, one I knew at the time would be futile at best.

They went for food.

I'm hungry. God almighty, am I hungry.

But that is my victory. Even when inevitable failure comes my way in only a few hours, I can still prove to the world that I am still, somehow, victorious. Victorious in the most difficult fight of all, the one against your own self. I must succeed, else I will have simply failed.

Failure was something that has never been acceptable. No, of course this did not extend to trifling matters, such as who can dance the tango, or who can sing a song in tune. All told, they are only simple pleasures, like painting on the street for pennies. Sweet, simple and insignificant.

Some make an art from the frivolous, and well done them.

But in matters of life, things that will define the future, define the _self_, failure is what the faceless have achieved. I remember it, many years ago, those words that defined the world for me.

"_If you ask me the names of the winners who passed this way over last year, I will give you a speech.  
If you ask me to name the losers, I will give you silence."_

He paused, giving me a searching look with Cerulean eyes, eyes like those that see for me. And then, the mantra which I follow to this day.

"_You're famed, or you're forgotten. _

_You're respected, or rejected."_

He would pause, and just stare at me. And I would stare back, waiting for him to finish. And, after a moment, he would.

"Which will you be?"

To which I would always respond with 'famed and respected'. And it was always a game to the young me. But it has become more and more. I can see that he is right, that those who fail vanish into oblivion.

So, I make sure that if I can't be a success through academic means, I will still prove to the world that I have succeeded. That I can turn a humdrum, undesirable body into a temple, show that the ugly can be controlled, show the gross and obese can be tamed, reformed into something sleek and svelte.

But.

It is not easy. Or simple.

I stare levelly at the thing that returns the gaze. With unwanted skin and flesh. Unbidden, my hands move down and unbutton the simple blouse I wear like a shield. The fingers move higher and higher, and I follow them with dread, the dread of the condemned as she takes her final steps. The blouse is open, and there is still flesh adorning these bones. Too much, too much.

But I can see the outlines of my lowest ribs through the waste, and a tiny smile cracks my face. The battle is not over, but the war is being won. The smile dies as my eyes trace upwards, and see the greed and gluttony that still embellishes my chest within the confines of clothing. Represented by two swellings sat mockingly upon me, resisting my attempts at correction.

Still work to be done.

When the inevitable takes place, I will be in debt until I can show the world that I an victorious in the battle against the treacherous self. Then will I have compensated for my failure.

But until then...

I re-button my blouse with finality, and draw the curtains on the figure who mimics me. Reflection is a thing that is not wanted now. All that matters now is ignoring the rodent-like gnawing that sits within my belly, trying with all it's might to lead me astray, and learn for tomorrow. Empty as the attempt is.

But it is all I can do. It would make me, and him proud.

Which is all that really matters.

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It's been said in some situations that 'youcould cut the tension with a knife'.

This morning a knife wouldn't even made a mark. A blowtorch maybe would. Or a diamond-tipped drill. But a knife? No, even with the strongest hands wielding it, it would only shatter upon the tension of today.

I'm not surprised that I have woken up this morning to the sort of atmosphere only seen in hyper-dramatic stories written by someone who should know better. But all the same, it isn't comfortable. I want to get out of here worse than Gene Hackman wanted to get out of the S. S. Poseidon. And for anyone who has never heard of the film 'The Poseidon Adventure', that's pretty badly.

"I'm going to go get a paper. Okay?" Ash pulls on his second shoe and looks to either side at the two girls laying huddled in bed and resolutely staring at their respective walls. "Anyone want to come with me?"

("I will!") Chikorita is a little too close on the end of Ash's question, I suppose she wants to get out as fast as I do.

("Me too!") I add, hopping down from the end of the bed, weariness from last night's marathon trek around Cerulean making its presence felt. The unpredictable but always energetic Hazel (well, energetic until this morning) had dragged us from one end of the city to another, although carefully avoiding a few areas.

("Me three!") I glare at Pikachus' rubbish joke as she eagerly joins the group, easily as uncomfortable as the rest of us.

"Okie dokey. You girls want anything?"

"...Zzzzzzz..."

"...Zzzzzzz..."

"...Guess not." We all ignore the blatantly fake snores as we head out and go searching for a newsagent. This takes about thirty seconds, since there is one across the road. A copy of 'The Kanto Times' (with the tag line 'we deliver news faster than the Ponyta Express' upon it's front page) in hand, we stop outside the shop with the knowledge that we need a reason not to go back to the pressure cooker that is room six sixty-six (co-incidence? I can't believe it is).

("So, Pikachu, didn't you say there was a Quagsire at the Gym you had unfinished business with?") I ask, and within a second everyone else has taken the excuse with both hands.

("Oh, yeah! I hope he's up on his game today, else he's gonna find out what happens when you piss me off.") Pikachu decides to flex her verbal muscles, probably just relieved she doesn't have to go back to face Hazel and Misty. Mistys' intensity I can fully understand, but Hazel's is unclear. Maybe the fact she is where she is is getting to her.

"Pikachu, I already know what happens when you're pissed off. Just make sure you keep things under control." Ash murmurs, spying a sign declaring the direction to the gym and setting off.

("Didn't you learn last time that it won't work? How do you hope to win? Ground types will ground your electricity every time.") Chikorita grins with insufferable smugness. ("Maybe I should do the job, I'm perfectly set to take this kind of fighter. Even injured he'll play into my hands, and I'll have way more chance than you ever would.")

("You'll see just how wrong you can be...") I tune out the bickering and instead take in the smells and sights of Cerulean City. I've only been here a couple of times. But every time the fresh sea air and blue sky is refreshing. Especially at this time of year, with high summer approaching. The antagonism of Chikorita and Pikachu becomes indistinct as I gaze at the sky, amazed that it always seems so, well, blue here. If it weren't for gravity, I wouldn't know what was the sky and what was the sea. Even so, the two almost seem to reflect each other. I remember hearing somewhere that there was 'no black and white in the blue' and I still love that saying. No difference, no distinctions, just the blue...

"Will you to give it a rest?" I guess the blue doesn't so easily distract Ash. He's currently frowning at the other two, who have ceased in their endless argument at the outburst from the human among us. A few moments of silence and we're on our way again, with the two pokemon that aren't me looking well and truly cowed by his telling off. I don't mind the quiet now, it gives me the chance to listen to the sea lapping at the land. People are wrong when they say I can't stand water. I love it. So long as I'm stood at least ten feet from it.

After a ten-minute stroll, we come to the Cerulean Gym. And it doesn't look in a much better state compared to last time I was here. And last time it was only just avoiding the label 'a dump'. Mistys' sisters spend so much time looking after their own looks that they've not given the building a coat of foundation for a few years. Although, I note as I walk through the sliding doors into yet another abyss of blue, they have taken good care of the inside. Maybe I was being a little bit unfair in my assessment.

"Ashy-boy!" Although maybe not. There's more paint on Lily's face than on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. One of Mistys' interchangeable older sisters glomps Ash in a way that would make the youngest sisters' face red as her hair. Especially given the swimsuit she's wearing.

"Uh, hi Lily." Ash tries to slide out of her grip, but there's no way he's escaping without getting the girl's lipstick (which is somehow even pinker than her hair) on his face. Twice.

"It's been so long since my sister's cute boyfriend came by!" She turns her head to the door I know that heads off into the living section and calls for the others. In moments, we're surrounded and being fawned over by three excitable girls, Daisy still wearing curlers in her hair.

"Aw, Ashy-boy is growing up so fast!"

"Yeah, he's gotten so, like, cute!"

"And Pikachu, you still look so adoooooooreable!"

"Cyndaquil, you want me to teach you how to, like, swim? I remember the first time, the way you almost drowned, that was sooooo funny!" Yes, I remember that too. I wouldn't describe it as funny.

"Chikorita! Love the leaf darling, but white isn't you're colour. Why are you wearing bandages anyway?"

"Oh my, d'you want me to teach you the_ breast-stroke,_ Ashy-darling?"

"Who's your hairdresser? These curlers are real bad for your hair."

"Where's little sis?"

"Yeah, where is little sis?"

"True, is little sis off on a strop again?"

At this the torrential downpour of excitement and bad grammar stops, and all three of the sensational sisters stare at Ash.

"She's back at the centre, revising for tomorrow."

"Oh, okay, she's got that exam thing tomorrow hasn't she?" I'm a little surprised Lily remembers, and judging by Ash's face he is too. "Well, wish her luck from us, yeah?"

"Yeah, I will." The three sisters nod almost solemnly, before breaking out into grins again, ones big enough to expose several rows of pearly white teeth.

"So, you wanna like hang out here for a bit? Catch up and all that?" It seems to me like we've got a dilemma here. Mistys' pretty damn clear she wants nothing to do with this place at the moment, so staying almost seems like betrayal…..

"Sure, why not?" Ash doesn't even hesitate. Come to mention it, he's wearing swim shorts. Looks like he was planning to stay.

("Beats the atmosphere back at the flat.") Chikorita adds, before wandering off to inspect a pool filled with aquatic plants.

"Cool!" Daisy shoots a look at her two sisters, along with a tiny wink. One that has me backing away from them quickly…..

"Get 'im!" Lily gives a war cry and in a flash the three of them are on Ash, tearing his shirt off. Before you can say 'isn't that indecent assault?' Violet and Lily are carting him an arm and a leg each over to the poolside ignoring his (admittedly feeble) struggling. What happens next is inevitable.

"On three! Ah one! Ah two! Ah Threaaaah!" As they let him go, my friend snags an arm from each of his captors and the three of them go flying into the pool with an almighty splash. I'm glad I managed to get out of the spray zone. But hang on a minute, where has Daisy gone?

"Oh no sweetie pie, you're coming too." A pair of hands scoop me up from behind, and I suddenly see my life flashing before my eyes. Because, again, what's going to happen is inevitable. And for the record I leave all my worldly goods to Ash to do with them as he sees fit. I take a deep breath as my captor sprints towards the water, and brace for impact as she dives forward into a full somersault.

After a few moments of terror, I reason it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Yes, the water is definitely wet. That never changes. But it's pretty warm, and since I'm sitting on Daisy's remarkably flat stomach as she lazily floats on her back towards a raging water fight, I can honestly say I've had worse rides.

"No, not the face!" Violet's voice shrieks as she gets a gallon of water in her mouth. "Look, Daisy's there, go after her!"

"Easy girls, I can't get my hair too wet with these curlers in. Besides, I've got a passenger." She turns around in a half-circle and I see Ash looking the happiest he has for weeks, alongside a flushed Lily and a glowing Violet.

"Aww, cute!" Lily gushes, while the blue-haired girl paddles over, eyes getting the look they had just before Ash was indecently assaulted. I can feel my anxiety beginning to peak as she gets within dunking distance…..

"Violet, knock it off sis." Daisy kicks out and we glide out of reach, steering around to move towards the other two. "No dunking while he's on board." I know Daisy would have difficulty working out what I was trying to say to her, but she picks up on my surprise easily. "Come on love, last time you were here I had to do a full-depth dive to fish you out. Now I know your little green friend promised to help you learn to swim, but I doubt you want to take a dip in the deep end, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry little guy. Shoulda thought of that. A bit, like, cruel to make ya go in again." Violet smiles warmly at me, before turning her attention on my ship. "But if ya think that he makes you, like, safe Daisy, you wait 'til later. We'll make it up to ya."

"Sure, sure." The oldest sister cruises over to the poolside, allowing me to hop off.

("Thanks!") She gives me a wink, and then spins into a fast swim towards her sisters and my brother. Seconds later, the fight is back on in earnest. Guess she doesn't care about her curlers any more.

("So what happened to my rematch?") Pikachus' grumpy voice comes over my shoulder. ("I thought that was why we were coming here.")

("I'm sure you'll get it soon, but let Ash have his fun for now.")

("Oh, okay.") Ten minutes later four panting figures are laying on their backs, floating idly in the water after the kind of battle that would have shocked Napoleon with its ferocity. Ash is still coughing up water and giving Lily a bit of a glare after she tried a quick 'friendly' grope mid-battle, and Violet is a nice shade of flame red after part of her escaped her bathing suit.

("D'you think I can have my match now?") Without waiting for a response, Pikachu bounds over to the water's edge and calls out. ("Hey Ash, we've got a battle to win!")

"In a while, Pikachu. No rush." My yellow counterpart bristles.

("Hey! I thought we were coming here to battle!") Ash drops his legs and turns around, treading water.

"We did. But the water is fine, why not join us for a bit?" Pikachu growls, and turns her back on the pool. Ash sighs deeply, and then glides over to the sisters before gesturing them close and starting to talk, presumably to tell them what it was my frustrated friend was on about.

("Hiya everyone. Uh, what the hell has been going on here?") Chikorita saunters back into the main pool hall, exploration evidently complete. ("There's more water out of the pool than in it.")

("I think you can probably guess.") She nods, and glances at Pikachu, who is now scowling at the aquamarine ceiling.

("And what's up with her?")

("I think you can probably guess.") Another nod, this time with a snort.

("Typical.") Now, predictably, Chikorita rather than the ceiling is the recipient of the scowl.

("Ah, shut up. We came here for a battle, and I want to get it.") She stiffly folds her arms. ("But they're too busy mucking about in the pool to give me my chance.")

("Let us have a bit of time off would you? Sheez, we didn't come here just for you to try and beat the hell out of some Quagsire. It's a chance to kick back and relax a bit.") Chikorita and Pikachu, unconsciously, are facing up to each other. I can see where this is going to go already.

("I don't want to relax, I want a fight! I haven't had a real one for too long. Why can't we do what _I_ want for once?") Annoyance is clear as day in Pikachus' face. Trouble is, Chikorita doesn't seem to notice.

("What are you? A gun? A bomb? Something made just for fighting?") She shakes her head. ("There's more to life than that. You've got problems, pal.")

("Don't think you can tell me anything! What right do you have to say these things? Just because I want to compete it doesn't mean I'm obsessed!") But, I can't help thinking Chikorita is striking too close to home.

("Not obsessed? Then what was it that gave me these?") She growls, nodding to the grubby bandages still adorning parts of her body. ("A bit of a tiff? Nope. You've got it bad. So bad that right now you want to dive on me and beat the hell out for saying so. Heh.") Pikachu is almost vibrating with fury, cheeks sparkling. But even so, I think Chikorita is right. Pikachu is a world-renowned warrior, has been for longer than Chikorita and I. But she's always been fighting, in a way. Perhaps she knows no other way to work things out. And maybe, as I watch her splutter and fume, indignant but unable to find a defense, this is something she might just be starting to realize.

Then Chikorita decided to spoil everything.

("You look like you're a bit too hot under the collar. I think you need to cool off…..") A vine whips out fast as wildfire and snags a leg, sending Pikachu backwards into the pool.

Which, apart from being idiotic, was a reallyreally stupidthing to do to Pikachu when she's in this state.

("Glub-You-cough-goddamn-gaargh-bastard!") Chikoritas' chuckling isn't helping an already incandescent girl who is now angrily floating in the shallows.

("Hah, well, you should consider other people now and then.") That tips Pikachu over the edge.

("You bitch! I'm gonna give you a thrashing!") She begins to draw in power, and I take an unconscious step back. Pikachu, for all Chikoritas' posturing, is more than capable of wiping both of us out with interest...

"Pikachu! No!" Ash screams across the pool, with an edge of horror to his voice. Pikachu blows out her cheeks in annoyance and Chikorita grins at the rescue.

("Give it a rest, Ash! She deserved what she was going to get.") Pikachu calls back, unrepentant. Ash plunges into a fast stroke, almost skimming across the water towards us. Eventually he pulls up at the pool edge, looking no happier than he sounded.

"I know she did." The grin worn like a trophy on Chikoritas' face falls. "But it doesn't excuse what you were going to do!"

("Eh!") Pikachu looks nonplussed. But I can see what Ash is on about.

"For god's sake, there were four other people in this pool! Don't you realise what could've happened to the girls if you let ten thousand volts of electricity loose in the water!" Pikachu looks horrified.

("That's damn right!") Chikorita should probably shut up.

"And you can give it a rest." My adopted brother shakes his head. "I heard what you said, and you know what, normally I wouldn't be bothered. But then you go and do what you just did, out of sheer spite. I'm ashamed of you. So ashamed that I don't want to hear any arguments."

And he doesn't pay Pikachu or Chikorita any further attention, even as he climbs red-faced from the pool. And then he dives straight back in, going almost the length of the pool beneath the surface before surfacing with a splash and a loud gasp.

"What was all that about?" I hear Daisy ask, looking bizarre with a drenched mop of dark orange hair still bound around her curlers.

"Nothing that hasn't happened before. Again and again..." For a second Ash looks totally desolate, before the three sisters bring him back into their circle and the discussion re-starts, although now Lily and Violet have wrapped their arms around him as their group draws in tighter.

("Damn, god-damn, so stupid...") Pikachu mutters a string of recriminatory curses as she hauls herself from the pool, canary-colour fur now darkened by the water. Chikorita doesn't say a word. But my own frustration, boosted by Ash's distraught expression, finally outweighs my considerable patience and tips the balance.

("Okay, you two, come here.") Both of them look at me, surprised. I'm not in the mood. ("I said, come _here_.") This time my tone offers no options. Like schoolchildren called to the front of the class for misbehaving, they shuffle over, heads bowed and eyes downcast. ("Right. No more. That's all I have to say.")

("No more what?") I grind my teeth.

("No more of this bloody arguing!") Pikachu shrugs.

("Don't tell me, it's your fault.") Chikorita swings around.

("Hey, you started - ")

("_SHUT UP!"_) The flame on my back blazes into life in emphasis, stopping them stone dead. ("That is _enough!_ Can't you hear yourselves? This is driving me crazy! And as for Ash, well, be glad he hasn't resorted to banning you from his presence altogether! At this rate, he's going to snap soon. And you know what he'll feel forced to do?") Pikachu suddenly looks like she's swallowed a golf ball, and Chikorita looks horrified. ("Yes. He's bound to all of us, as we are to him.") The normal trainer and pokemon bind does not affect us. We are tied to each other through friendship and love, which are far more potent. ("He'll offer you both your 'freedom', which would sever all ties.") Now, agreeing to that would be like saying 'goodbye'. As Pikachu and Chikorita are loath to spend any time even out of sight of him, this is out. (" There is no way he will do that, and no way any of us would accept. So, barring that, he would either snap and break down, or, if you drove him to it, he would consider using pokeballs.") A gasp from the yellow one, and nothing short of a shriek from the other. ("He would hate to do it it, really hate it. But he would, like shutting a soundproof door to save his sanity. Since he can't escape from you two, and he feels responsible, it's the only way he could think of to create a few moments of respite. Do you want that? _Do you?_")

("No, that wouldn't happen, it couldn't...") Chikorita gasps, looking tearful.

("Are you so sure? You're pushing things. He'll ask you to give it a rest and you won't. He'll ask you to leave him alone and you won't. It's like you're two kids squabbling and he's your mother, always in the middle and asked to take sides.") My snarling and disdainful tone takes an extra edge. ("So he'll end up with a choice. Incarcerate both of you, like sending you to your bedrooms in disgrace, or go mad. But we know that going into a pokeball isn't like being sent to your bedroom, do we, Chikorita?")

("NO! I _WON'T_ go back in there! Not without a fight.") She quails, backing away with her head shaking. The situation beckons my mind back irresistibly to three years ago, to that warm summer evening in Pallet town...

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_It had been warm. And Pikachu and Chikorita had been fighting cat and dog for weeks. There was no question as to what over, despite the fact neither contestant said so, indeed to the point where both contestants were careful to avoid any reference to the person in question and would quite vehemently deny everything if questioned. I remember that when I first met the two of them there was almost an unspoken truce, after an upsetting incident which I only heard about after the fact. But it seemed time had rotted the olive branch, and now it was pretty much all-out war. Everything all came to a head at around nine at night on a Friday, when the light was just beginning to dim and the sun set, as if it knew what was to come and did not want to view it. Ash was tired, tired beyond belief with the fighting, and no one else seemed disposed to notice. Deliah, well, she was recovering from illness, I can't remember what now. She still held herself with her usual great poise and calm temperament, but all the same she was severely drained and didn't know exactly what was going on between the two. Brock had quite sensibly chosen to stay well out of things, citing his exasperation about having to deal with his own family disputes as a reason. Misty, well, Misty was quite happy spending time with Deliah and telling Ash to sort things out. I tried my best, but at the time I was almost the stranger of the group, so my chances were limited._

_I can't remember what this disagreement in particular was about. I doubt the two protagonists do. All they knew was that they disagreed. That was all that mattered._

_I do remember five of us sat in the other room, trying in vain to watch a soap opera above the increasingly loud argument taking place. The volume went up on the TV, and so did that of the argument seeping through the wall. It got to a point where the windows were almost rattling, and Deilahs'' friend and helper, Mr. Mime, had left the house with a headache. _

_Misty was the first to complain. _

"_Ash! Could you go and cool those two off? I want to hear if Fred proposes to Daphne, or if he's going to leave her for Thelma!" At this Ash fidgets and tries to avoid the request, he knows that his presence would only add a gallon of fuel to an already burning fire. However, his mother spoke up next. And one thing Ash can't resist is her._

"_Dear, if you would be so kind, I am trying to listens." At this, Ash raises himself from his chair without a word, and I get up to follow him. I sense he might need help._

"_I reckon he's going to marry her." _

"_Nah, there's no chemistry there. I think he'll run to the hills. And into Thelma's arms..." I close the door, no longer interested in Misty and Deliah placing bets on who will sleep with who. I'm following Ash's heels, listening to the row going on behind closed doors._

_("No way! I was the one who got us out of that scrape, how could we have fixed the wheel without my skills?") _

_("Rubbish! How were you going to get the car started? I powered that damn thing all the way to the next village, despite a bad head-cold!")_

_("Yeah, well, that night you were like a dying bloody swan!") _

_("You try running a car with the flu!") I roll my eyes skywards. Another round of one-upmanship. At least boxing stops after twelve of them. If they keep this up all summer I think that they might set the world record for the longest continuous argument, if they haven't already._

"_Ladies! Please!" Ash shoves the door open and glares at the two protagonists, who instantly shut up. For a second._

_("She started it!") Pikachu re-opens hostilities._

_("No, she did! She called me a liar!") Chikorita reciprocates. Here we go again._

_("It's because you are blatantly lying!")_

_("How dare you, you, you – ") _

_("Go on, say it. You were more than happy to call me one when Ash wasn't here.")_

_("Argh! I've had enough, you bi-")_

"_ENOUGH!" My big brother of sorts throws his arms up in frustration, then himself into a chair. "I can't stand another minute of this!" For the second time in a minute, silence. Then, predictably….._

_("See what you've done!") I almost gape at Chikorita. I've heard of being one-eyed, but she must have both of hers tightly closed._

"_NO! I won't let this go on any longer!" Ash gets up and strides across the room, brushing past the feuding pair. "It's gone far enough. It has to stop." He pauses in front of the dormant fireplace, seemingly deep in thought. I can sense all the eyes in the room are firmly trained on him, anger temporarily forgotten. This snapshot holds for more than a few minutes, silence enough for me to hear the closing theme to whatever mushy soap opera we had been watching seeping through the wall, along with a couple of muffled sobs. Looks like whoever was right about the outcome, both Misty and Deliah found it moving television._

"_Okay." I come back to the here and now to see Ash slowly turn around to face the guilty parties. And I can see in his eyes that the verdict he has arrived at he has not arrived at lightly. I'm sensing trouble. "As I said, this can't go on. You fight like cat and dog from dawn 'til dusk. So, I've got to do something."_

_("Wha-?") _

"_No, you're going to be quiet and let me speak for once." He sighs, bringing his hands up to his face. "I've tried everything. But nothing works. I tell you to go out separately for a walk to cool off. And I find you scrapping on the back patio half and hour later. I suggest we sit down and talk things through. Five minutes and you're standing nose to nose. I send one of you to my room, the other to Mistys'. Not thirty seconds after that, you're at it again, through the WALLS dammit!" Another deep sigh, and he draws his hands down a little, so he can see over his fingers. "I've tried almost everything. If circumstances were different, I'd put myself on a flight to Johto, or maybe on a boat to the Orange Islands, and leave you to it. But I can't. I know, you know, we're bound to each other, we made a promise to stay together as partners for long as life lives in us. And I won't go away and dishonour the promise. But I can't take any more of this, this squabbling!"_

_("Sorry…..") The two of them murmur in stereo, but our friend shakes his black-haired head slowly._

"_You may mean it now. But in ten minutes, who knows?" He chuckles sadly. "You know the funniest thing? I'm really the one at fault here." The others pipe up, again in stereo, this time trying to dissuade him. "No, I am. Because, even though you never say it, _I'm_ the one you're fighting over." This time the silence is touched with shock. I can see the same thought shining clear in the faces of Pikachu and Chikorita both._

_He _Knows.

_All the posturing, all the stupid fights were due to just one thing. Jealousy. Dressed up as petty disputes about silly things, each one was a covert round of arm-wrestling over the prize. And the prize has just told them what they never suspected._

"_Maybe I should have buried the hatchet before now. Maybe nothing I said could have made a blind bit of difference. Perhaps, in a way, by refusing to get involved I got just what I deserved. Weeks and weeks of unending hell. But now, it's not just about me. And that is where I draw the line." Ash drops his hands and cranes down over the girls. I see them both take a step back, almost in fear. Thanks to his longish black hair, I can't see the expression on my angry friend's face, but I can imagine it._

"_Misty. Cyndaquil. Brock." He pauses a second, and continues with yet more malice. "Mum. You've made all of them suffer too, and for what? I'm not a prize, and I'm not going to love one of you more than the other, because I couldn't love either of you more. Which makes it all the sadder for me to do what I feel I have to."_

_("We're sorry, we really are!") Pikachu pleads as Ash turns his back and heads over to Deliah's pride and joy, her huge antique bureau. It's something that has been in the family for a long time, as she is so fond of telling anyone who is listening, or even anyone who stands still long enough. At nine feet tall, twelve wide and built out of solid oak it dominates an entire side of the room. Deliah keeps filling it up with random things, but I can only think of one thing that Ash keeps in it... and It's at this moment my mouth goes dry._

"_You know, I do believe you. But I can't trust you to stay sorry. Soon as I leave the room, someone will light the blue touch paper yet again." He pauses, hand in the open draw but not moving. "Now, I want us to sort all this out, and soon. But not tonight." He pulls his hand out of the drawer and slides it shut. "Partly because I'm too angry. And so are you. But, mostly because mum is in no state tonight to take any more nonsense. Christ, they pumped her full of drugs again this morning, and she's barely moved off her chair since she came home. She's having a hard enough time now without having to hear this, hour after hour, all night. So, I'm going to do the only thing that I can to make sure she gets the peace she needs in her own home." With that he opens both his hands and the two simultaneously gasp as they see what they contain._

_Two Pokeballs. One marked with a leaf, one with a lightning bolt._

_("No, no!") Chikorita shrieks, backing away and shaking her head madly. ("Put her in, not me!")_

_("Hey, I was around first!") Pikachu bristles, furious. ("Put her in!")_

_("No, anything but that! Put me on a plane to Johto, anything!") The pale green one is frantic, screeching like a banshee. ("Don't make me go in there, I won't, you can't!")_

_("Hey, it's only going to be for one night! Cool off will you!") Pikachu looks puzzled as I am at her reaction._

_("How do you know! How do you know you'll ever come out of there again?") Chikorita howls, still retreating until she hits the sofa. With a yelp of surprise she spins around, and, to my shock, lashes out viciously with a vine, tearing a huge hole in two of the cushions._

_("Watch it!") Pikachu shouts, before diving out of the way as a few battle leaves come flying her way. It's as I see them cut clean through a chair and embed themselves in a wall that I realise Chikorita is deadly serious. And anyone who gets in the way is in serious trouble._

"_Chikorita, listen to me!" Ash calls, but then has to duck as a vine comes flying his way._

_("No! Won't go back into the dark! Never! Not in the dark!") My friend screams, totally lost in whatever fear she's trapped by._

"_Hey Ash, what's all the noise about?" Misty pokes her nose around the door._

_("Not a good time! Get help!") I yell, and Misty complies, no doubt hastened by the vines that crash into the door behind her, dislodging it from its hinges._

"_Chikorita, no! Stop! When have I ever lied to you!" Ash cries, and for a moment Chikorita seems to respond. Until she sets her red eyes on the object still clasped tight in his hand and the haze of madness re-enters them._

_("I won't be trapped again! Never!") With that, she flings out a vine whip faster than I can blink. It clips Ash on the chin, spinning him to the ground. But it was sent out with such ferocious speed that she loses control, and it smashes into the bureau behind him, tipping it backwards with a fearful creak._

"_What the hell?" Brock bursts into the room in time to see the bureau bounce off the wall it stands against, and then, with chilling inevitability, rock forwards and past it's point of balance. My breath caught in my throat as I saw who is kneeling, stunned, beneath it's shadow._

"_Ash! Look out!" Misty screams from the entrance as Brock and I both make desperate but painfully futile bids to get across the room in time. I hear Pikachu call out something as she joins us in our charge, but the ominous creaking drowns it out as the huge piece of furniture falls forward all too quickly. Ash seems to realise what is happening and makes a dive to get out from beneath it._

_Too late._

_An almighty crash, accompanied by the horrific sound of a thousand valuables smashing, seems to shake the very building to its foundations. Great clouds of dust hover in the air. In the aftermath, like the momentary vacuum that follows a bomb blast, everyone looks at one another, suspended in that second. _

_Then, time returns to the room._

"_Everyone! Help me get this off him!") Misty charges over to the fallen bureau, calling for help. Brock and I are alongside her in a flash, and she's already trying to lift it alone. I sense Pikachu move alongside me, wishing to give whatever help she can. But a second of trying to raise the huge piece of furniture tells us we need another pair of hands._

_("Chikorita, get over here!") I shout, seeing her stood stock still in the centre of the room, eyes wild and wet._

_("Come on, I don't care you did this right now, we need your help!") Pikachu adds, which seems to shake Chikorita out of her daze. She loops her guilty vines around the bureau, and with a huge collective grunt of effort, we manage to force it into it's old standing position, revealing Ash laying underneath it._

"_Ash? Speak to me, please!" Misty moans, eyes already growing tearful._

_  
"Can you hear me?" Brock reaches a hand around the fallen boy's wrist. "Well, he's breathing and his pulse is fine, if a bit quick." He lifts an eyelid and frowns. "Looks like he's unconscious, can't rule out skull fractures. But he doesn't seem to have any that are obvious. Either way, I'm calling an ambulance." He gets up and hurries to the door, telling us not to move him while he's away._

_("Ash? You okay?") Pikachu shuffles over, looking morose as I've ever seen her. ("If I knew it might come to this...if only I knew. Stupid, so stupid.") To my surprise she doesn't say another word, instead she snuggles up against him and begins whispering words unheard in his ear as the fur around her face gets slowly more and more damp. I feel the shock begin to work it's way into me, but I shut it off. There'll be time for that later. What is needed now are calm heads, like Brocks'._

"_You crazy bitch!" Misty rounds on the stationary Chikorita, scarlet with fury. "What were you doing? What the hell were you doing! I know you think you own him and you resent Pikachu for loving him too, but killing him to make sure she can't have him is a bit fucking extreme don't you think!" At this the dazed red eyes seem to clear fully at last, and with an explosive sob she charges out of the room, and up the stairs._

"_Yeah, you think I'm done with you? Just you wait missie!" The red-haired girl lets go of Ash's hand and moves as if to follow, but I block her path._

_("Okay Misty. You've said your piece. Now let her be, she's realised what she just did. Going after her won't help any.") A moment of pause, and to my relief, Misty sinks back down, grasping Ash's hand again._

"_Oh my, what on earth has happened here?" Deliah's aghast tone catches me by surprise, and I turn to see her leaning on her cane in the doorway, taking in the carnage with shocked eyes and her palm covering her gaping mouth._

"_Uh, Deliah..."_

"_My chairs! It'll take more than patchwork to fix this, oh, and the door is broken, I only got that fixed last month, and the bay windows, cracked beyond repair, how am I going to fix that? That was made by my father..." I cringe as the lady slowly takes in the damage to her treasured possessions, knowing the course of her gaze would soon reach us. "And all these smashed dishes, they were a gift from Samuel back when I got married, oh no, not the photo, and the glasses, all destroyed!" She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, leaning all the more heavily on her walking stick. "Everything, everything is broken -Oh, Ash! Ash, are you alright? What's happened? Why is my son lying on the floor? Why won't he answer me?" I try to answer, but I feel like someone has their hands tight around my throat. Misty tries as well, but only succeeds in bursting into a fresh bout of tears, which doesn't help Deliah at all. "What's wrong? Is he hurt? Can't he hear me? Please Ash, say something! Please!" her frantic pleas tip me over the edge as well, and I drop my eyes to hide the tell-tale silver tracks._

"_Ash has been in an accident. He's unconscious, but he's breathing fine and he should be alright." Brock re-enters the room just in time, and places a hand on Deliah's shoulder. "I've called the ambulance, they'll be here inside ten minutes." Ash's mother takes a few deep breaths, dabs at her eyes and seems to regain her composure, her usual poise and collected manner clicking back into place as if it had never left._

"_Thank you, Brock. But tell me -" She gestures to the remains of her parlour " - what on earth happened?"_

"_There was an accident, and the bureau kinda, uh, fell over on top of him." _

"_An accident you say?" She takes in the havoc again, before fixing the three of us grouped around Ash with a beady-eyed stare. "Well, I've always told him since he was a little boy not to go climbing on the furniture. Looks like he never listened." She gives us another look, one which tells us that this is not all over. "Now, Misty, I'm going to pack an overnight bag, can I trust him in your care?" The tearful gym leader just nods, holding the prone boy's hand all the tighter._

_("I won't let anything happen to him.") Pikachu re-affirms, sniffling from her position alongside Ash's head. Deliah walks out of the room, and I hear the stick tapping it's way up the stairs as she goes to gather her things together. She's not fooling me, I know she's worried sick. But that's Deliah, she tries to stay collected in the most trying circumstances, and then gives in to emotion when she feels she can. _

_Like Mother like Son._

_When the ambulance arrived, Chikorita was nowhere to be found. Deliah eventually convinced Misty to stay behind, on the proviso the water lover could take over from her in the morning when she came home to change. So, as Deliah got into the back of the ambulance with Ash on a stretcher, she turned around to us with a twinkle in her eye._

_  
"Brock, I expect you to do my job while I'm away. And remember, not too much water on the Azelias in the morning, they only need a drop right now."_

_  
"Yes ma'am." Brock makes no protest at being told to stay at home. He knows well as I do that Deliah needs to be alone with Ash tonight, so she can deal with her grief properly. I know she won't with any company, no-one but Ash is allowed to see Deliah's vulnerable side._

"_And Pikachu, you can come in with her. But leave him with me tonight, please?" Pikachu sadly agrees. Finally, she addresses me. "Cyndaquil, you too." I nod in response, respecting her desire for privacy. "Now all of you behave yourselves, and don't worry too much, they think Ash will be okay, given time. Now, bye for now, and don't go to bed too late!" Her eyes slip skywards briefly, before she smiles at all of us and pulls the door shut. We watch the ambulance disappearing in a cloud of dust, and soon as it leaves sight Misty cracks again and is pulled into a hug by Brock. _

"_Brock, eight tomorrow morning, I'm out of here, I'll catch a taxi, cycle, jog, I don't care, I'm going..." The ginger gym leader babbles through her tears as she's lead inside by Brock, followed by a silent and doleful Pikachu. Just as I reach the house I look up and catch a glance of something green in the bedroom window before the curtains twitch and fall closed._

_Looks like someone else was saying goodbye too._

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("Not without a fight! Christ, don't you remember last time? You want a repeat of three years ago?") The way she bows her head tells me Chikorita doesn't.

("Yeah, that was pretty bad wasn't it.") She mutters, peering at her reflection in the polished sapphire tiles on the pool room floor.

("And we know exactly who made it so bad...") I storm up to Pikachu, cutting her off before she can get going again. Obviously, her anger hasn't been crushed like her adversary's by the thought of Pallet three years past.

("My first wish is that you _shut up! Right now!_") She accedes, mostly out of shock. ("Look at this, look at us! Do you want a repeat of all that? Months of hell, followed by someone getting carried to hospital? We've got enough trouble with Hazel and Misty, the last thing I need is for you two to open up old wounds yet again.") I growl in frustration. ("Pikachu, you need to calm down. Chikorita, you need to grow up. And I, I need to cool off.") With that I turn my back on them and march over to the pool, where the humans in the room are now paddling around lazily. Without needing a prompt, Daisy glides over and I hop onto her belly, and we cruise out into the middle of the pool, where the others float. I can see by the array of red faces that they haven't exactly been enjoying light conversation either, but I'm too tired to care.

"You 'kay Quilly-baby?" I'm too tired to even care that I've been called something so bloody stupid by Lily. All I do to reply is yawn and get even more comfortable.

"Go ahead an' sleep Cyndaquil. Your Ashy-boy ain't goin' anywhere for a while." I raise a sleepy eyebrow at him.

"Well, do you want to go back into that atmosphere? Misty would smell the chlorine on me in a second and then I'd be in deep trouble. She'll be off to the exam soon, she doesn't want me around before it, she made that perfectly clear last night while you were asleep. We'll head back when she's gone. I'm just hoping Hazel won't do anything stupid..."

My last thought before I drift off to sleep is that maybe, just maybe, from this moment things might start to happen.

I'm going to find out just how right I can be.

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I pack my bag silently, making sure I put three pens in just to be safe. I won't know what to write with them, but at least I'll fail on my terms rather than through a lack of ink.

"Going then?" Hazel comments tonelessly, laying fully dressed and staring at the ceiling from her bed by the window.

"Yeah." I watch her for a minute, until my traitorous stomach gurgles. Hazel turns her head to look at me.

"D'you want something to eat first? Ya don't wanta go into an exam hungry y'know. I don't want ya to fail 'cause you've gotten faint half way through." I'm shocked by the honesty in Hazel's voice.

"No, no, I'm fine, honestly." I pat my outsized stomach and force a grin. Hazel returns it with a stony expression.

"No, no yer not. But bugging won't help any." She returns her gaze to the ceiling.

"Why the concern all of a sudden?" I put my hands to my hips, internally grimacing at the flesh still coating them. "It's not as if we're friends or anything. Hell, it's not as if we're companions, or even adversaries. We can barely speak to each other. I think you like me even less than I like you. So what's the deal?" Hazel sighs deeply, and rolls onto her right so she can look straight at me.

"Believe it or not Misty, I don't hate you. No, it's true." I think my incredulous look must have annoyed her. "I used to, back then when I blamed you for my shit life. But I know, Ash told me, that it wasn't your fault, it was nothing to do with you." She sighs again. "Now that was a bitch to accept. But I thought back, and you must have been what, Seven? How can it be up to you? Seems like I was getting' at you to spite yer ma, or whoever it was in charge back then." It was both my parents at the time, but I don't want to think about that right now.

"Anyways," she continues, "I got my head 'round the fact that you weren't responsible. Though I gotta say it didn't make me like you much more. But then, we get close to here, and I see ya doing this bizarre stuff, not eating, not sleeping. And I thought, ain't she just doing what I'm not strong enough to? Don't I want ta prove I'm in control?" A third sigh, and she rolls back so she's staring at the ceiling again. "At that point, I gave up hatin' you for your family's sake. I know I've been difficult, I know I've been a bitch at times. But I can't do what you've done. I couldn't handle it. So I've raised hell, that's what I'm good at. Time to time maybe I went too far, like that night by the burnt bridge. When ya called me a slattern. That brought back too many memories. But I gotta use this energy, else it'll burn me alive. You understand?" My mind is spinning like a Catherine wheel, and I drop my bag, exam temporarily forgotten.

"Well, uh..." She seems to stiffen on the bed, and I can guess what she's going to say next.

"I guess what I really want to say is, is...I'm sorry, alright? I've gone too far. I'm not strong enough to be you. Fuck me, wish I could have, instead I grabbing onto Ash, fought you, and raised hell." She chuckles ruefully. "Nah, I'm not sayin' I'm Mrs. Easy-to-live-with, I steal and lie for a living, and I've got a mouth that would make a pimp blush. But all the same..."

"Why are you saying this, Hazel?" This, on top of everything else, nearly pushes my over-wrought mind to tears. I sit down heavily on Ash's bed, on the dark-haired girl's side. "Why now?"

"No reason." She mutters, rich brown eyes flitting to look out the window. "Just wanted to clear the air, make sure we all know where we stand, y'know." No, I don't. Why would she choose now, just before I go to my exam to do this? Unless... Oh, no...

"You're going too, aren't you?" She stiffens, looking out of the window with yet more intensity. "You're going now, alone, to your home, aren't you?" A full half-minute of silence, and then -

"Yeah." That simple reply.

"Why don't you wait for Ash? You know he promised you, promised to protect you." Hazel shrugs, still avoiding me.

"I know he did. But this is my fight. Not his. I gotta do this myself." She must sense me starting to argue, as she cuts me off. "The exam is your fight, this is mine. Just think, I turn up with a bodyguard, how could I look him in the eye? 'Hi dad, wanted to come back and tell you you're an asshole, and here's my help in case you don't like it?' No, gotta do this myself." I feel a deep respect for the girl lying before me blossoming in my chest.

"You can say all you like about not being strong enough, but you're braver than me." I take a seat on the same bed as her. "I've avoided the Gym for years. Even now, I can't face going back." I brush a stray lock of ginger hair behind my head, smiling truly for the first time in weeks. "I wish I could do what you are. But I can't. All I can do is sit this exam, and pray for a miracle." I get up, drawing my bag onto my shoulder. "And time is calling me onward. So, I've got to say goodbye."

"Good luck Misty. Hope you do the business." Hazel says with total honesty, offering a small hand. I reach out and grip it, before drawing her into a tight hug.

"Don't you go doing anything stupid." After a second of surprise, she returns it.

"And don't you mess up. Ash would be devastated." My heart seems to freeze within me at the mention of the name. But all the same I pick up my bag and, taking a deep breath, head for the door.

"I guess I'll see you later." I say, reaching for the door handle.

"Hopefully." I shut the door firmly behind me, with a silent prayer.

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**There is too much to take in. Too many thoughts. I shake my head, trying to dispel the shock that has taken hold of me, while taking the stairs down to the reception lobby. I cast a final look around, and the resolutely march out of the Pokemon Center. The time is up. Now I have to face my future. **

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_I wait for Misty to leave, before sliding off my bed onto my feet. I can't ignore my fate any more than Misty can hers. I don't have a deadline, but I can't hold off any more. I give Misty a two minute head start, and then wrench the door open. I almost let it go of it again, but something pushes me through. As it shuts behind me, the fact that I have no key makes it all the more real. I'm going to do it. I smooth down the skirt Ash bought me, and take my first faltering steps on the way to my fate._

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**_I take several deep breaths as I _****_s_****_et out through the city I used to call my own. Memories that I had buried spring to the surface, reminding me of the times I spent here as a child. Memories so evocative that I could not recall them, but precious none the less. This place, this life was a part of me from the time I was born..._**

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**I let my feet steer me, trusting them to navigate the streets I have known since birth. It all seems so surreal. I'm like a stranger in my own home. Here a shop that I once bought a bar of chocolate from so my mother wouldn't know, there the ballet school that tormented me for many long evenings. But it all seems so far away .Like another world. So much has happened between then and now, so much. Most of it good, yes. Brock, Jessie and James, Tracey, the pokemon, the adventures, the magic. All my team-mates. Goldeen, Horsea, Lapras, even Psyduck. Togepi, I wonder where my baby is now…..**

**All those who we met, befriended and said goodbye to. I wonder if they still remember me?**

**Probably not. **

**The other Pokemon, way back when I first started my travels. Squirtle, Charizard and Bulbasaur. Now, Chikorita, Cyndaquil, Totodile.**

**And Ash.**

**Ash…..**

…**..Without him, I would have none of these memories. When I ran from my prison, many years ago, all I could think of was getting away, breaking free. I had no idea what being free would really mean. I wonder, I do wonder, if that dark-haired boy hadn't dropped into my life right when he did, would I still be sat on that bank, fishing. Watching the river, and wondering where it flows. But, although it was hardly a dream beginning, I chose to go with him. And I am so glad I did. **

**I owe Ash my life, because without one, I never would have really lived. But he holds much more than just my life in his hands. He holds my heart too. I love him, I know. But recently, life has stopped being one long fairy-tale and started getting in the way. Hazel, she was one part. I understand her more now, and I think I can forgive her for what she has said and done. But she's made it hard, so hard to talk with Ash, to be alone with him. And the way he accepted her, invited her in, and got her to open up to him. It got me thinking…… **

**  
Do I really deserve him? **

**And the worst part is that I don't know the answer. Yes, I am going to do this exam for my future. I'm going to do it to show my father I'm strong. But most of all, I'm doing it to prove myself, both to myself and to him.**

**Because without him I've got nothing.**

**Yet the coin always lands with one side down. If I pass, I prove my worth. To him, and to the world. But then…..he would leave, and I might have to stay. I can't make him stay, his life is about exploring, finding new horizons. **

**If I were to fail…..I could go on, and travel with him once again, but with the knowledge that I am a failure. That I've let everyone down, let myself down. Let him down. I don't know if I can live with that.**

**I've managed to lose most of my excess weight, although there's still some way to go before I can be the little skinny girl I was when I first met him. But that alone isn't enough. I have to prove myself both in body and mind.**

**So I must pass. I must. **

**For him.**

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_I let my feet steer me, trusting them to navigate the streets I've known since birth. They step carelessly over the hopscotch pattern, scuffing the chalk. I feel like I'm walking in slow-motion, with each step the realization of what I've gotta do getting clearer. I don't want to get to my destination. But my feet have taken over control, and they're taking me there against my will. _

_Why am I doing this? Why am I going back there?_

_I could probably turn around right now, go back to the room, grab Ash and never let go. Never have to come here again. I could go with him, travel and see the world, who knows, maybe even use pokemon like he does. I think for a moment about the Charmander still sitting inside the pokeball which lies redundant in my pocket, and the responsibility I would carry. I don't know if I have what it takes. But all the same, I could find a million excuses not to come near here ever again. _

_But I won't. That's not Hazel._

_If there's one thing I've learnt in my time with the gang, it's that you can't give up, you have to trust yourself to do what you have to. I want to hold my head up high, and say I did what I had to do. I'm going to show my new friends, show Ash, that I'm brave, that I won't back down from my problems._

_I don't feel very brave right now. My hands are shaking, my heart pounding, and I'm fighting the urge to wet myself right here and now. As I face the door at the front of my block of flats. The door that leads to hell._

_It all comes thundering back. The shouting. The alcohol. The fist thudding into my cheek, the pain and humiliation. The abuse, never-ending. All waiting in there. The door reminds me of the cap on a shaken bottle of cider. Looks innocent, but so much pressure built up within, ready to explode as soon as it opens. _

_Explode, and cover me with it's poison._

_I feel ready to faint. But I won't. I won't let myself._

_I vaguely note that I've lost the fight with my bladder, but it doesn't seem to matter jack shit. The real battle is waiting for me in there._

_I can go if I want to, turn around right now. I can._

_But I won't. I won't let myself._

_It's time to face the devil. I reach out, grasp the door handle, and press it down. I step inside, taking a deep breath. Too late to go back now. Onwards, and upwards._

_I hope you'll be proud of me, Ash._

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**I come to the gates, and stare at my old school. It seems so much smaller than I remember. I never liked coming here. It took me away from what I loved. The water, the pokemon, the gym itself. Even, at that point, my family. So I never really paid attention. I could never understand why, when I was caught staring out the window and not listening, the teacher would send me out into the hall where there were more windows to look out of and I couldn't even hear what she was saying, let alone listen.**

**No, no time for being sentimental. **

**I pace slowly towards the steps at the front of the building, noting that I'm far from alone. There's dozens, no, even hundreds here. Never expected so many. But it's nice to see that the school clock set above the main entrance still wears the same time it always did when I was here. **

**Suddenly it re-hits me, the reason I'm here. And I have to hold the handrail at the foot of the stairs tight to stay on my feet, trying like hell to keep from retching. Too late to change my mind now.**

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_**I take it one step at a time, counting them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven...the tiniest of pauses...twelve. Then a few steps forward, one, two, three, four, five, six...seven.**_

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_I stare at the grey plywood door, struggling to breathe. I know that if I hadn't already, I'd wet myself right now. I'm so scared. So, so scared that I haven't got words. It's not about words any more, it's physical, my whole body is shaking, hands reaching up to touch long-healed bruises which still hurt me within. But I can't go back, I have no choice in the matter now. I take a long breath, and try to square my shaking shoulders._

_This is it._

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**I stare at the****door to the main hall, as if challenging it. Challenging it to be locked, and make the decision for me. But I know I'll have no luck. I fight for breath, feeling like the world is suddenly sitting on my shoulders. This is it. Is it. Now. And I'm going to fail. I'm going to lose any sparse respect I own. And I'm going to float on through life like a broken branch on the river. But I'm here, and I must at least try. It may be futile, but I must try. I take a steadying breath, and cross my fingers tightly. **

**This is it.**

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_**I reach out with trembling hands, and grasp the door handle, momentarily running my fingers over it's smooth surface. My future awaits. And I can't keep it waiting any longer.**_

_**Slowly, so slowly, I push the handle down, hearing the catch click open. One final long, clear breath. Tasting it as if for the last time.**_

_**Saying a silent prayer, I close my eyes and push open the door, ready to meet my destiny...**_

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Well, I had to end on a cliffie

This time, with a little luck, it'll be a month rather than a year until the next chapter!

Thanks for reading,

Dan.


	14. Hollow

'I can't believe it either. But somehow, in less than a month, I manage to update! Hopefully, this is a sign of a new leaf being turned over. Thanks to all you reviewers, and to a few people who have kept me going with their insistence that I write more (at times to the exclusion of wasteful pastimes, such as eating and sleeping )

I won't add any more, since anyone who has waited for a month to actually read the next installment doesn't want to sift through pages of rambling first.

So, hope you enjoy!

Oh, and please leave a quick review, even if you don't. I'd like to find out how I can improve.

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Where The River Flows - Chapter 13 - Hollow

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They've been too quiet, the three of them. Ever since we left the Cerulean Gym, no, even while we were there. I know I gave them a right chewing out, a deserved one too, but normally that wouldn't do this. This is the sort of silence I woke up to this morning, in the room I'm returning to now. I think that Cyndaquil was giving the two of them a bollocking of some sort back at the gym, but I was too wrapped up in conversation with Mistys' sisters to notice.

We talked a lot, in the few hours I was there. In the pool, at lunch, lounging in the back garden. The Sensational Sisters have grown up a lot in the years we've been away. I went there out of sheer desperation, under the pretence of wanting to showing my face and relax. Any thoughts of pretending went straight out of the window when, mid-way through our energetic water battle, Daisy grabbed me. Under the pretence of dunking, she told me I wasn't fooling anyone. She saw straight through me. Maybe I wasn't splashing with enough vigour, maybe my smile wasn't quite reaching my eyes.

Soon as the action stopped, and I'd told Pikachu to wait for her therapeutic battle, the three sisters all gave me looks that told me feigning ignorance was futile. So, we got into a close group, I guess the others sensed I didn't want to have to explain more than once.

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"_Ashy-boy, what's up." The eldest sister, Daisy, being unusually direct. "You come here, leaving li'l sis holed up in your hotel room, with a face that even a clown wouldn't wear to a funeral."_

"_Yeah." Violet joins in. "I can get the bit 'bout you not stayin' here last night, fair to say us and li'l Misty have got things to work out. But there's no way you'd turn up here this mornin' unless you're in trouble. You didn't tell her you were comin' here, since she'd go nuts. But I never knew you to go off an' do something without lettin' her know first." _

"_She doesn't want to come here, and she won't want you to come here. But you did. Year ago, you'd never have gone off wanderin' without Misty, especially on the mornin' of an exam. So what's, like, goin' on?" Lily finishes, and all three of them fix me with a stare. I give them a winsome grin, and a shrug._

"_So, I couldn't just be coming here for a bit of a swim, then?" The three exchange looks. And then, with perfect synchrony, they all look back at me and give me the same answer._

"_Nope."_

"_There's the sea."_

"_And the river."_

"_And the public pool two blocks from here." I always wondered how they managed to even synchronise their unscripted lines._

"_I guess you're not going to swallow that excuse." Lily frowns at me, and I can feel my stomach sink and my throat tighten. Looks like I'm not going to be able to dodge this._

"_Look Ashy-baby, somethin' is up, somethin' to do with Misty. No point dancin' around it or avoidin' the subject." Her aqua eyes glare at me, all too reminiscent of the girl on my mind. Her usual flirty act is gone in a flash, she's suddenly all business as her voice takes on a sharp edge. "'Cause if all you're gonna do is dangle this in front of us and then say nothin', you may as well get the hell out of our pool." Every word is agonising, like a knife working it's way into my gut. I don't know, I don't know what to do. Should I say anything? Should I go? Is this, quite simply, a betrayal of my dearest friend?_

"_Hey, Lily, leave off him. He doesn't look too good." Violet must see the anguish as she tries to cool her younger sister off. But Lily isn't listening. She puts her hands on her hips and leans right forward, right into my downcast face, and almost screams at me._

"_You're here ain't ya? So what'cha waitin' for! Spit it out!" I do try to spit it out. But I can't find any words, all that's there is a deep, horrible feeling welling up. Days and days of frustration, worry and guilt, all rising like a geyser, seeking release. I close my eyes tight as I can, and bite my lip, trying to hold it back. _

"_Lily, cool it." I realise that any efforts I make to keep control are lost as Daisys' arms pull me into her. My grip on emotion loosens…"_

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It was at that point I heard shouting, and a feeling of static in the air. Turning my head, I saw Chikorita and Pikachu exchange their last words, before Chikorita hooked her adversary into the pool. In response, Pikachu decided to exact revenge with her electricity. While treading water in the same pool as myself and the three girls.

I saw red.

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"_Pikachu! No!" _

_("Give it a rest, Ash, she deserved what she was going to get!") I growl at the answer and fly into my fastest stroke, all the time trying to calm myself down enough to speak. The few seconds it takes to cross the pool are just enough, but I know I'll have to keep this short; else I'll go over the edge. As I surface, I see Chikorita looking insufferably smug on the poolside, and my anger takes another jump._

"_I know she did." God, it feels good to see the smile wiped off her face. Now for Pikachu. "But it doesn't excuse what you were going to do!" Any triumph creeping onto the yellow ones' face retreats instantly. _

_("Eh?") I furiously slash an arm out to point at the sisters still floating at the other end._

"_For god's sake, there were other people in this pool! Don't you realise what could've happened to the girls if you let ten thousand volts of electricity loose in the water!" Pikachu suddenly looks mortified. I'm sad to realise I find some satisfaction at her regret._

_("That's damn right!") I round on Chikorita, only clinging onto my anger with fingertips._

"_And you can give it a rest. I heard what you said, and you know what, normally I wouldn't be bothered. But then you go and do what you just did, out of sheer spite. I'm ashamed of you. So ashamed that I don't want to look at you. Or hear any of your arguments." I quickly pull myself from the pool and turn so I can dive back towards the three waiting for me. For just a split-second I catch the eyes of the silent Cyndaquil, and I sense something change in them. But I don't pause; instead I hurl myself back into the water and go as far beneath the surface as my lungs will let me, until my chest burns. For a moment I relish it, enjoy the feeling of agony that I know I can make go away. Eventually, I re-surface and paddle the few yards left._

"_What was all that about?" Violet murmurs, looking back past me. _

"_Nothing that hasn't happened before. Again and again….." My anger evaporates, leaving behind only despair._

"_Oh, Ash." The blurry figure of Daisy once again draws me to her, and I feel the arms of Lily and Violet also bind me. I accept their embrace, and let myself finally share some of the load. As the first hot tears slip out, I can hear shouting. But it seems so far away, for once. For once, it's not for me to resolve._

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I think I must have cried on Daisys' shoulder for a good few minutes. I felt so guilty about going there, behind my red-haired partners' back. But I had to. They needed to know. And I, I needed to tell someone. I can only take so much. The next thing I remember, Lily has me wrapped up tight and Daisy floats over with a tired looking Cyndaquil on her belly. I gently detach myself from her with a whispered thank-you and a weak smile, and turn to face him.

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"_You okay Quilly-baby?" The pink-haired girl intones, and despite the feeling of emptiness I almost laugh. Quilly-baby!_

_  
"Go ahead an' sleep Cyndaquil. Your Ashy-boy ain't goin' anywhere for a while." He looks at me with a silent question, and I think quickly._

"_Well, do you want to go back into that atmosphere? Misty would smell the chlorine on me in a second and then I'd be in deep trouble." I shudder, partly at the thought of Misty putting two and two together, and partly at the deep twinge of betrayal. " She'll be off to the exam soon, she doesn't want me around before it, she made that perfectly clear last night while you were asleep. We'll head back when she's gone. I'm just hoping Hazel won't do anything stupid." He nods sleepily, and is snoring gently within seconds. _

"_So, I guess I'm staying for a while." Violet nods._

"_Heck yeah. It' s pretty, like, clear that you gotta load on your chest, an' some of it is to do with li'l sis. That is why ya came here, after all." I try to smile in response, but fail badly._

"_Yeah. But I didn't mean to treat you like handkerchiefs." She giggles lightly, and throws a slim arm around my shoulders._

"_Ya didn't. We can't have our favourite li'l brother drowning 'cause there's no-one to throw him a rope. Misty relies on ya, Ash. Too much. That's how ya got into this state. Between them two who've just buggered off to sulk and li'l sisters' woes I'd say ya need all the help you can get." She gives quick squeeze before releasing me. "The three of us have all got a hand in Mistys' life, whether she likes it or not. Sure we've had our problems, an' maybe we're a part of whatever is happening now. But li'l sis needs to work things out too." She smiles gently at me. "I 'spose that's why we need to know all that's been going on."_

"_I'll tell you what I can." I answer, already feeling nervous about the story I'd have to relate. "But it's not going to be easy." The sisters smile at me, which eases the knot in my stomach a little. I know Misty has difficult memories of monstrous older siblings from back when she was a young girl, but same as she's grown up, they have too. I just hope that, in time, she can see this._

"_You can take your time then. I'll go put the kettle on, a cup of tea makes things that little bit easier." Lily says, gliding over to the steps and pulling herself out. "Some towels would be good too." _

"_There are some fresh off the line in the airing cupboard." Daisy calls, receiving a wave in acknowledgement. As Lily goes to prepare drinks, I lie back, close my eyes and let the water carry me, really feeling relaxed for the first time in what seems like forever._

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It wasn't easy, giving the three of them a warts-and-all summary of the past few weeks, it dragged up a lot of old frustrations. But the sisters really have grown up. There was no giggling, no silly comments. And whenever the story got a bit much one of them would give me a squeeze and tell me it was okay. I felt like a real dope, getting so emotional, but they assured me it was alright. I'm glad I went, now. At least I know that it's not just me and Cyndaquil against the world.

("Ahhhhhh, that was nice.") My partner yawns, sounding cheerful. I'm not surprised, he got to sleep on Daisys' stomach, and thereafter he was treated to the best low-calorie cakes that the world has to offer by Lily while Violet gave him the sort of grooming that I didn't know she was capable of. Mind you, she does spend a lot of time on her own looks, so it's fair to call her a professional.

"It was. First hour of hedonism we've had in a while." I cast a glance over my shoulder to see the two trailing us, both avoiding everyones eyes, especially each others. "But what is going on with them?"

("I had a bit of a chat.") Cyndaquil replies, with a clear 'not now' message in his voice.

"Oh, okay." The automatic doors whirr open, ushering the two of us into the Pokemon Centre, and then slide shut behind us, demonstrating just how far behind Pikachu and Chikorita are lagging. I don't have the patience to wait for them, so I stroll over to the lift and punch the 'up' button. "So, right about now, Misty should be getting into her stride. I hope." He must catch the desperation in my voice, because he smiles.

("I'm sure she is. She's been working towards this for a long time.") I can't help thinking though, as I press the '6' and the lift doors slide closed, that it's not her knowledge that I doubt, it's her state of mind. The Misty I've loved for a long time wouldn't order me to leave her alone before the exam, she'd want cups of tea and biscuits on the hour, every hour. My deepest fear at the moment isn't about the exam, pass or fail, it doesn't matter to me. It's the possibility that I'll never have _my_ Misty back again.

"I hope you're right. I really do." The metal doors slip open, ushering me out. The two of us fall into an easy amble again, making our way down the long corridor, towards the room.

("But in any case, we have to get her to go along and catch up with her sisters. They've changed so much from the three girls who thought it'd be funny to see if I'd 'sink or swim'. Maybe the fact I sank woke them up a bit.") I silently agree with Cyndaquil. The three of them have changed. I imagine the hard part will be getting the rouge-haired one to see this.

"Well, we'll see. Maybe, if I can get her to go within ten yards of the gym, we might make progress." I fish in my pocket for the card key, and slide it into the slot as Cyndaquil jumps up to pull the handle down. I smile at this, he's never really got the hang at opening doors, so he takes the chance to practise whenever he can. Mind you, I can see why it's not easy for someone his size.

("We're home!") He calls, flipping down to the floor as I nudge the door open and step into the room.

Silence.

The back of my neck prickles.

We hurry into the room to see it deserted, the only occupants three beds, two unmade. No Misty, that is to be expected. No Hazel... My stomach sinks into my boots. She wouldn't go out, would she?

"Maybe she's gone to the shop." I mutter, trying to convince myself that the worst hasn't happened.

("I know she's a thief, but to go without a wallet when there's money in it?") Cyndaquil answers, pulling a small black object from Hazels bag and just about confirming my worst fears. ("I think we know where she's gone, I could just see it in her face last night. She was getting ready. She knew what she was going to do.")

"And we don't even know where she used to live. DAMMIT!" I turn around and blindly throw a fist into the wall, my briefly clear mind once again steeped in shadow. Why has she gone? "I promised her no harm would come to her! I can't do that sat here! I hate to think of her going to see that, that..." Words fail me as I sink onto her bed, staring blankly at the discarded bag laying on the aquamarine carpet.

("Easy Ash.") Cyndaquil hops up onto the bed beside me. ("We don't know for sure she's gone there. And if she has -") He continues quickly, seeing my smouldering look. ("- She obviously wants to go alone. I know you promised, but all we can do is wait. She'll be back, I know it.") I feel my worry-induced anger slip away, leaving a cold and gnawing doubt.

"I hope you're right. I really do." He grins, probably because he thinks it'll ease my mind. It doesn't quite work, but I appreciate the effort.

("Of course I am. Now, let me tell you what happened at the Gym, since Chikorita and Pikachu haven't got keys, and they're not going to be knocking in a hurry...")

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The door is unlocked. And as I push it, it creaks open, letting an odd scent assault my nose. It's weird, not one I'm used to smelling 'round this place. It's got some kinda stench on it, but it also smells fresh, like summer wind. This place usually reeks of rubbish and alcohol. The small piece of corridor I see in front of me tells me nothing though, except that my old man hasn't bothered cleaning up the stains on the carpet yet.

"Hello?" My weak, frightened voice echoes through the air, but there is no answer. There isn't even a sound, other than my deep breathing rebounding off the walls. Well, this is it. I step into the flat, ignoring the chill shaking my bones, and my soggy socks. The few steps it takes to get to the turn in the hallway takes forever. I take another gasping breath, thankful that I can't wet myself twice, and look to my right. And gasp.

The place is empty.

_Empty._

The dirty cream carpet is fully visible, the rubbish and empty bottles gone.

The windows can be seen through, and they are actually open, letting in that fresh smell of summer.

The settee that my father used to lay on, comatose and stinking of alcohol, has vanished, the only clue to its existence a grubby outline smeared on the wall it used to sit against.

As I drift through the room that I used to live in, only one thought sticks in my mind. _What the hell is going on?_

I approach my father's bedroom door half in fear, half in confusion. I don't want to see him laying there, snoring, face covered in stubble and enormous gut quivering with each breath. But at the same time, it would tell me that I haven't just walked in to the wrong flat.

As soon as I push open the door, I'm sure I must be dreaming. That horrible red carpet, the one that seemed to be the same shade as the blood that would run from my nose, is gone. So is the bed, and everything else in the room. All that is left are the wooden floorboards, and the windows, that are again open.

That's what really brings home to me how wrong things are.

My father used to hate, really hate, having the windows open. He always said it was because he got cold, and maybe in winter he did. But looking back, it's more like he didn't want to hear what went on in the real world. And maybe, just maybe, he didn't want them to hear what happened in here, especially when he made me cry, when he used to hit me and send me flying to the floor, onto the carpet that seemed to soak up and conceal the liquid leaking from my face.

I stagger out of the room, unable to work out what is happening. Somehow, I end up in the bathroom, which, like the rest of the flat, is unusually clean. I splash my face with cold water, like I did so many times in the past, only this time washing away shock rather than tears and blood. Finishing, I wipe my face with my sleeve, and take a look around. Again, too clean and empty. The bath looks pristine, it was never that clean when I used to sit in it. I fight down a shudder as the memory of my dad staring at me while I was sat in barely a foot of lukewarm water comes back. At first I thought it was innocuous, he used to come in under the pretence of needing to clean his teeth or use the loo, and I actually quite liked it both because I was too young to get just _why_, and it was one of the few times he was actually quite nice, it reminded me of the old him. But as time went on and I grew up a bit more, it soon got so blindingly obvious he had come in just to look at me. In the end he didn't even bother to make an excuse. And on a few occasions, he'd...

No, I don't want to think about this any more. I move quickly out of the room, leaving the unwelcome thought behind. It's so surreal, coming back here, and not walking into hell, but this other place I've not seen for many years. If it weren't for the smudged silhouette of the sagging settee and the number on the door, I'd swear blind I was in the wrong place. But even so, I must make sure. Letting my feet lead me, I wander into my own room, looking for proof.

And I find it.

There's nothing there. No bed. None of the posters I had pinned up as a little girl, then treasured when everything went shit. Even the carpet, with its sky blue and white pattern, doesn't prove anything to me. But then I go to the window. And I know.

I know this view. It's the one I looked at for so long. The one I'd watch whenever I could. The sea, the town, and, in the distance, the cape.

The view that kept me going through too many tough days and nights.

And now I have to ask a very important question. What the fuck is going on!

I almost run from the flat, slamming the front door behind me. It's too weird, like someone's decided to play some kinda joke on me and at some point they're gonna jump out from somewhere, laugh and tell me that my dad will be home in a minute.

"Hazel? Is that you?" I freeze at the top of the stairs, and see the lady from the flat below peering up at me from her doorway. I don't know what to make of this, I've only met her a couple of times and she's about as nice as anyone I've met for a long while, but why is she calling me out like this?

"Yeah." I answer warily, thinking of alternative ways out.

"I thought so dear." She opens her door wide, and gives me a small smile. "I've got a kettle boiling, do you want to join me for some tea?" I give the offer thought, remembering her kindness in the past, on the few occasions since she'd moved in a couple of years back that she'd ran into me.

"Well, maybe." She beams at me, and nods.

"Okay, the door will be open for you. Make sure you wipe your feet on the way in, I've just finished hoovering." With that she heads inside, and I walk down the stairs carefully, ignoring the slight footprints I leave behind, just wondering why I trust this young lady so much. Maybe it's because no one has ever looked at me so kindly since grandma died. But whatever the reason, I decide to take up her offer. Reaching her front door, I decide to take off my shoes and socks, leaving them sat on the 'welcome' mat, and nudge the door open. I still feel numb, but maybe this lady can shed some light on whatever has happened.

And if she can't, at least I get a cup of tea. And a biscuit or two, if I'm lucky.

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"Okay everybody, this entrance exam will be two hours long." The short, round man at the front of the hall with a name badge proclaiming him to be 'Bob' gives everyone a disarming grin, one I don't return. "The questions are all short answer, and there are a eighty of them, split into blocks of five per subject. I know many of you would prefer essay questions, but I've got to mark these things within a week and I'll be damned if I'm going to read a hundred spiels on how a Golduck can't get athletes foot." Most of the hall chuckles, and the man's eyes twinkle. "And if that comes up in this exam, don't tell anyone I've been giving you hints." He starts pacing towards the big clock sat high on the wall, and I find myself wondering if that hair is ginger or strawberry blonde. I think more the latter, but it's too short to tell easily.

"So, the rules. No talking at any point from now until the exam is done. You can't leave the exam in the first hour, or the last fifteen minutes. If you've had enough and want to run for the hills, you can do it between these times. But please, let myself or one of my assistants know first. The same if you need the toilet, or if any other emergency takes place. And if you do leave, do so quietly. Now, we will be taking the time from this clock - " He pauses and points up, the face now reading two minutes to one. I find myself wishing the second hand would stop ticking right now, so that I don't have to face this moment. "- so forget about your watches, what the big one says is the law. Any questions?" He casts his gaze around the hall, as I try to stop my hands from trembling.

"No? Well, the time now is One o'Clock, good luck everyone, you may turn over your papers and begin." With that I grab the paper sat in front of me, flip it over. and gaze at it blankly.

Okay, name, name, oh, Misty, yeah, Misty Williams. At least I've got that right. I take a moment to try and settle myself, and then turn over the first page. And freeze.

_Why do Gyarados commonly encounter chronic neck and spinal problems? _

I know this. I do.

But, but, I can't remember. I can't remember…..

Everything goes grey. My mind is swamped with fog. I can't find it, I know it's there, but where I don't have a clue.

Frantically, I leaf through the pages, with each one bringing a fresh wave of panic. Words and terms here and there are familiar, but nothing is making sense, nothing is coming together or clicking into place. The horror hits me like frigid water from a fire hose as I return to the start again and stare blankly at the first page, unable to make sense of a single question.

I'm going to fail.

I'm going to lose.

I'm nothing.

I put my head in my hands, now unable to even see the questions thanks to the helpless tears that blur my eyes. I can't do this. I was a fool to think I ever could. Now I get my just deserts.

I'm sorry dad.

I'm sorry….. Ash.

Sorry I couldn't be more than I am, more than the nothing I've turned out to be.

Sobbing silently, I let my head rest on the cool desk, fingers loosening their hold on my pen until it slips idly from my fingers and clatters to the floor. I don't care, all I can see is the faces of the ones I've let down.

A gentle hand rests on my shoulder.

I look up to see the invigilator, Bob, stood beside me, a look of concern on his round and slightly sunburnt face. Slowly, he reaches down and picks up the pen I dropped, and hold it out to me with a silent question. I stare at it stupidly for a moment, before tentatively reaching out and grasping it. He smiles at me, and as he moves away, whispers a few words in my ear.

"Don't give up."

I sit in the chair for a moment, breathing hard and dashing the tears away with the back of my hand. Then, I close my eyes, turn over the page, and open them again.

The questions still seem as incomprehensible as a minute ago. But I may as well go down fighting.

Sniffling, and with my face still red, I click the pen on and start to write.

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I sit at the light brown table in the front room of Kate's apartment, looking out at the sea. I never realised I didn't know the name of the 'lady from downstairs' until I tried to thank her for giving me some of her old clothes to change into and found I didn't have a clue. Having someone give you a change of clothes like you're a five-year-old is embarrassing, but so is not knowing the name of the one who's given them to you.

"Nice tea?" The blonde lady sits down alongside me, putting a plate of chocolate digestives on the table. She smiles as I grab one, before taking one for herself and dunking it in her drink while I just scoff mine whole, all the better to make sure no-one takes any of it off me. She watches me chewing, with cheeks puffed like a gerbil, before putting her mug telling me she's 'Otaku Forever' down with a click. Getting up, she vanishes off into what must be the kitchen again, and re-appears in the room moments later with the whole packet. I guess my joy is obvious, as her face wears a broad smile. "I'm guessing you like them?"

"Yep." I reply, swallowing the last of the first biscuit and eyeing up another.

"Be my guest." She replies, nudging the plate towards me. I don't need a second invitation, and I make even shorter work of the second one than I did of the first.

"These are great! I can't remember having these for a long time, not since gran died." Suddenly, I feel a lot less hungry, and I put the third biscuit down, suddenly feeling the need to stare at the table. The lady next to me takes a sip of tea, and picks up her second digestive.

"I didn't expect to find out you'd gone. I know I gave you the advice, told you to try and get away from him, but I never thought that you would elope off into the mountains." I shrug my shoulders carelessly, before grabbing my mug and taking a big mouthful.

Ouch.

"Ah! Hot! Hot!" I spit the boiling liquid back into the mug and pant like a dog, trying like hell to stop my mouth burning.

"Hey, take it easy Hazel. You want a glass of water?" I shake my head as the pain subsides, and decide that, at the moment, the biscuits are a safer option.

"I'm fine." I take a huge bite of the biscuit, enjoying the taste, and also the fact that it means I can't talk.

"I suppose the thefts that took place in the time between our talk and your disappearance had nothing to do with you, correct?" I think the fact I've started choking on my mouthful of crumbs tells her the answer. "Thought so." She puts her mug down with a clink. "I know that I did the right thing, telling you to get out of there for a while. But I didn't mean for you to go and steal from five shops and a pokemon centre. Although I should've thought, while I was sat there encouraging you to leave, exactly _where_ you were supposed to go." She sighs gently, sounding a little sad. "So I suppose, in the end, everything was down to me. And now it's more than just a string of petty thefts." I finally clear the last of the biscuit, and decide to set her right.

"Hey, it was me who went an' stole a few hundred quid of clothes and things, not you. I didn't steal my pokemon from anyone either, it was one that had been readied to go to Prof Oaks for some new trainer. They'll find a replacement." I take a tentative sip from the cup of tea, and find it quite nice. Not enough sugar though. "Well, turns out taking your advice was the smartest thing I've done for a while. Saw a bit of the world, made a few friends, had a fun time. Kinda forgot about my own pokemon, 'cause I was too busy enjoying life. For the first time in a while, really." Kate smiles at me, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder, and to my surprise I don't flinch away at the touch.

"I'm glad. I really did wonder if I'd done the right thing, even if I'd ever see you again." She pauses, and seems to steady herself. "Hazel, while you were gone...something happened. To your dad." I look at her, frowning a little. I can sense that this isn't gonna be good.

"What the old man do? He didn't get arrested or set fire to the place again did he?" Kate shakes her head, blonde hair swishing slowly with the movement.

"No, he didn't. It was yesterday, there'd been a horrid smell coming from upstairs for a while, and the council finally got around to doing something to sort it. I remember in the past he'd left rubbish lying around which had rotted, so I thought it would be that." I snort at the thought.

"Yeah, he never could be bothered to take the trash out, even back the days he was himself. Always left it to someone else." The lady sitting next to me looks at me carefully for a second, and then slowly puts her arm around my shoulders, and I can feel alarm bells going off. The answer to what greeted me upstairs hits me with a freezing fist at the same time she starts speaking, but I want to hear it from someone else, just to know for sure.

"Hazel, they didn't bring down bin bags. They brought down your father. He's dead, Hazel. They think he died a couple of weeks ago..." She keeps talking, but I can't hear her any more. It all seems insignificant.

"How?" I ask, feeling like someone else is doing the talking.

"They think that that he choked on his own vomit while blind drunk. I'm sorry." He choked? He choked while I was away? All of a sudden, I feel this crushing feeling in my chest. He's gone? That can't be, I can't believe it…..

Confusion fills my head, a swirling fog that I can't see through. This is too much to take in. That demon, the evil god of my world, dead?

My father, the one I used to love, dead?

"Are you okay?" Kate's voice just reaches me, and I instantly know I want to be somewhere else, anywhere else, but not here. Not in this building, the place where my dad breathed his last.

"Uh, sorry, gotta go. Go now." I slip out of Kates' grasp, hop off the chair, and I'm at a full sprint before I'm out of the door. I ignore the blonde ladys' call, forget my damp socks and shoes, I just run. Run with the hope that I can escape from the truth. I know I can't. I can't run forever, it'll catch up to me soon as I stop.

But it's easier to run than to think.

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I stagger to a bench and slump down, putting my head in my hands. That was a nightmare. Pure, unadulterated horror. I feel physically sick, and it's all I can do to stop myself retching.

Two hours. But it seemed to be two aeons.

Two hours spent like a woman shipwrecked in the middle of the ocean. Every second spent clinging onto hope and struggling to live on, yet inevitably harbouring the knowledge that she will eventually drown. In the end, the water closing above her head is a sweet embrace, a tender, welcoming, smothering kiss that signals an end to her suffering.

I wish this were the case now. My struggles, the exercise in futility that is my life, do not cease with failure.

My life, my shipwreck is for all to see. But I cannot drown in the waters, they force me to float, witholding from me the grace and dignity of sinking.

Instead, the world can see my shame, my pathetic struggle against the weight of expectation.

To be forgotten. To be rejected. I suppose that is my fate now. I am a failure. I spent the whole time writing inept mis-quotations that even the most brain-dead idiot would be ashamed to admit. I knew nothing. Nothing except my name, which I did manage to scribble without error. The name I don't deserve. Misty Williams. One of the Sensational Sisters.

No more. I'm a waste of fucking space. All those people who expected so much from me. My sisters, who I'll never be able to look in the eye, I know that they are pearls, and I am swine. My dad, who believed I could be someone, who still does. I know, even where he lives now, that he will know of my fatuous failure. I can just see his eyes harden, and the scorn in his voice as he derides me for being a blight on the family name. Or, maybe, he wouldn't even say anything at all. He would just stare. Stare, then shake his head, and decide I'm not worth his time.

And Ash. He's given up so much, taking time to mollycoddle some hopeless case. I've been holding him back, denying him his future while imagining that I could create one of my own.

I snigger darkly at the thought.

Hah. That's a joke.

Whatever convinced me I had the ability to actually do anything with my life? All this time, I've been outshone by all those around me. Lily, Daisy, Violet. Brock. Ash. They've got life, spirit, intelligence.

Me? I'm little miss Average. Little miss so-fucking-ordinary. Little miss useless.

I take my hands away from my face, looking across the bay. I don't know how I got to the cape, but I always seem to end up here. The weather is too nice, far too nice for the day that wears it. Right now, if the gods had any sense, the sky should be leaden with ashen cloud, which would preferably be engulfing the city with their contents. Then, I could sit on this azure bench, tip my head back and let the rain spatter on my face, to better express what I'm feeling. But no, all there is is blue. It makes me so angry, makes me want to roar with fury. Go away sun, go and shine on someone who wants your light, someone worth shining upon. Not this little lump of misery who has nothing left for her.

So what do I do? Go back to Ash? Go back and attach myself to him, like the leech I am?

No, not yet. This bench looks comfortable. Although, I think as I begin to pick at a patch of rust that sits like a scab on one of it's metal struts, it could do with a new coat of paint, and if I'm being fussy, an en-suite bin.

Hah, since I'm never going to be a success, maybe I could go into business making park benches more comfortable for tramps. I think my future career might just be full-time hobo. And I'd rather be kipping on a padded, luxury bench with all mod-cons than a hard, rickety old steel frame that will sure as hell dig into your back during a long night of slumber. A chunk of paintwork comes off because of my incessant probing, and I examine it critically. Looks like this seat has had at least a dozen coats of paint. It must have been here a while. In fact, I think I remember sitting on this bench once, only it was red at the time. I was so young, my feet didn't touch the ground, and I managed to get an ice-cream all over my face, down my blouse and on my skirt.

That was a long time ago. Back when I didn't have a care in the world. Back before all the trouble started.

Trouble that came to a head only an hour ago.

I have to ask myself again; why did I think I could do something like this? What gave me the impression that I had the potential? I must be the queen of self-delusion. All those people there, doing the same exam as me, but each and every one of them bright and confident, out of my league. How could I have been so arrogant to think I belonged there? Clear as the fat on my frame, I was a lump of coal in a pile of diamonds. So horribly out of place and worthless.

It was all I could do to stay there for the whole hundred-and-twenty minutes. Most of them had left before then, most of them knew what they were doing. Even that examiner looked at me with pity in his eyes.

And I failed. Of that I have no doubt. Thoughts of newspaper headlines exposing one Ms. M. Williams as being the new record holder for the lowest exam mark ever make me snort softly. If that happened, forget being a hobo, I'll go and live in the forest and get people to believe that there's a yeti in the mountains. I'd even make myself a set of clothes out of pine needles.

Maybe I shouldn't make promises I can't keep.

But I already have.

I've sworn too many times that I will succeed, that I will prove to be a worthy person in my own right.

But then, every time, I've withered like a rose beneath desert sun.

Running the gym. I was weak, too weak. I couldn't take the pressure of keeping it going. I couldn't take the derision of my sisters, who still clung to mothers' dreams of a future in show business. I ran.

Becoming a water master. The excuse I used to stay with Ash. I even grew to believe it myself. But then I realised exactly what it entailed. And that combined with the daydream of becoming someone who could treat pokemon and ease their illness took over. I deserted my plans, and changed track again.

Becoming a healer. Look how that came out.

So next? A full-time cheerleader and wastrel around Ash? At least my abject failure has given me the chance to go with him. Maybe I could actually achieve this dream. And, also, I would be with him. Maybe I wouldn't be worth his attention, but better a hollow life than none at all. I could follow him to the ends of the earth, kiss him in photos after he's won the championships he's destined to conquer. And, if he asked, I'd even let him shag me for kicks. Hell, he wouldn't need to ask. Then I could have his love-child. All that time, I could make sure that I continued my personal war with my body, so I never show him up by looking like the embodiment of gluttony. It'd do. I can't create my own light, so I may as well let Ashs' illuminate me as well. Then I would seem to be someone.

Can I do that?

I want to go with him. I want to live his life. But would he want me?

No, he'd discard me like some used tissue, I'm sure. It's no more or less than I deserve. He'd let me go because I've outlived my use, and become a burden. And I'd float on the wind, until I fall to my resting place and rot, rot until I have gone forever.

No, I don't think I can go with him. Not unless I prove my worth.

But how to? I've already proven my inadequacy.

Think of my name, I can't become some fan-girl slut. Dishonour on the name is not permitted in my family. Even my father, with his fate, accepted it with his head held high and claims on innocence on his part. Misfortune may pay a visit, but submission never enters.

I can't give in.

But I have, haven't I?

Haven't I?

I, I don't know. I've failed, I'm nobody. Can I still be somebody? Anybody? Do I want to be?

But I must be. Mustn't I?

I gaze out again over the irritatingly cheerful day, and smash my hand against the metal bench, ignoring the cut that the action makes.

I'm stuck. And all I want is to shoot myself in the head, to end the endless stream of questions. Endless, and without an answer.

I take a deep, deep breath.

And scream.

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He's dead, Hazel. The thought echoes, over and over, as I pace through the pokemon centre.

He's_ dead, _HazelIn an endless loop, like a heart beating. But hearts stop too. One stopped only weeks ago. And now, I wish mine would stop too.

My father is dead_. Dead. _The word tastes so odd. I'm not sure I can believe it's true. It's unreal, I can't get my mind around it. How can he be dead? That beast, that devil, dead? I stop and face the door, and reach out to knock.

I should be happy. I should be dancing, cheering that he can't touch me any more. I should be wild with delight, that the guillotine poised above my neck has been blunted. That his cruel hands will be frozen forever.

But, strangely, I'm not really feeling any relief. I'm not really feeling anything. I'm so confused. Why am I not celebrating his death? Whooping like the girls playing hopscotch outside? Why am I walking back towards my temporary room, with a heavy weight in the pit of my belly?

I think of all the times I would hide in my room, nursing bruises and praying to someone, anyone to take me away. But, all that time, I stayed. I thought it was because I had nowhere else to go, that the outside world was scarier than the one I was living in.

Now, I know differently.

And I also know that's not why I stayed for so long.

I reach out to the door, and knock it gently, almost hoping, like an hour ago, that no-one will answer.

Not this time.

"Hazel!" Ash scoops me up into a deep hug, muttering something about 'thank goodness'. I can barely feel him, as my whole body seems numb. Eventually, I find myself sat on my bed, with him on his facing me, relief clear on his face.

"Can I have a cup of tea? I didn't get to finish my last one." Cyndaquil looks puzzled by that, but he complies, shuffling off to put the kettle on.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I was worried sick!" He gives me a look up and down, but the relief seems to die away pretty fast. "Why are you wearing different clothes? And where are your shoes?" I colour a little, feeling like a fool.

"I got a bit too nervous on the way." He seems to draw the right conclusions, because he gives me a sympathetic look.

"I don't think any less of you for that. But why did you go alone? I wanted to be there, there to make sure he did nothing." I look down to the carpet, horrified that I'm feeling a prickling in my eyes.

"It was up to me, I had to face him. I couldn't look myself in the eye if I'd brought someone along as a bodyguard."

"Hazel, he was a man who used to beat you. A bully of the worst kind. I think it's fine to have someone to take care of you if it came to the worst. I want to be the one to help. Sometimes, you can't make it on your own." Something inside me cracks. Ash, he's such a good man, someone who reminds me of him, of him before my grans' death and the genie in a cider bottle took him away.

"You won't have to worry any more." I can feel my bottom lip trembling, and I snap my eyes shut. I can hear the bedsprings creak, and feel a hand on my cheek. A hand stroking, not striking.

"What do you mean?" I realise I'm crying. Tears are running down my face.

"H-he's d-dead, Ash, my dad i-i-is….." A loud sob breaks out, and I hold my head in my hands. Why do I feel like I've just lost someone? He was nothing to me, nothing!

I'm lying.

I always hoped that some day, one day, I would have my dad back. The man I loved, the one that looked after me and treasured me, would come back. That he'd throw away the cheap booze, and take me to see a film, read a book with me, and then kiss me goodnight. That's why I came back. I was hoping, praying, that my absence would make it all go away, that he'd see that it was all wrong, and go back to the old him.

But that won't happen. Because he's gone. He's dead.

My father really died six years ago, leaving only a shadow. But only now is it real. He's gone forever. Only now can I mourn him.

And it's my fault. I was the reason he ended up missing out on his dreams. And then, just weeks ago, I gave up on him. I left him, and he's dead. Some would say good riddance, but I can't. He was still there somewhere, trapped. If only, if only I had managed to stop him drinking, I could have seen my father again. Every night, I prayed for that day.

But I gave up, ran away.

And he's gone forever.

It's as Ash opens his arms and pulls me into him it really hits me.

He's dead.

And I'll never see him smile ever again.

"Oh, dad..." I burst into a barrage of sobs, and bury my face in Ashs' chest, blindly repeating the word over and over. It's like a dam has burst, all the memories of him that I had stashed away from before his drunken life come whooshing back. Visions of a big, happy man, one who had kept his head up when others would have folded, someone who would take time to play with me, someone who I rode pretending I had my very own ponyta, someone that tucked me into bed at night after telling me stories of princesses and pokemon, stories he made up himself. And his smile. The one that made his face light up like the staryu in the cape at night. It's too much, I feel like I'm being beaten by these memories, tossed around like a rag doll, feeling every punch he landed on me while controlled by the demon in a bottle rain down at once.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay." Ash rubs my back gently as he rocks me in his lap. Dad used to do this too, when I'd scraped my knee or hurt my finger. Then he'd put some magic cream on it, cover it with a plaster, and tell me it was all fine. And it always seemed to be back then.

Now, I don't think anything will ever be fine again.

It's only after a lot of wailing that the torrent of memories slows to a trickle, and I can take in my surroundings. I'm sat cradled in Ashs' grasp as he rocks me back and forth, on the end of one of the beds. I look up through the salty water in my eyes to see him gazing at me with concern. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Cyndaquil watching me carefully, as if I might break at any moment. Eventually, I find a tiny peep of voice, sticky and gravelled from the crying, but strong enough to speak.

"Sorry." He smiles down at me warmly, giving me an extra little squeeze.

"Don't be." His voice is soft, and tender. I can just feel the anguish tugging the corners of my mouth down again. I know I'm gonna start bawling again, but I just want to say it again, to make it that bit more final, to draw the line underneath it.

"He really died six years ago. But now, I know he can never come back to me….." And the tears start again. I feel like I'm on fire, my throat is sore from the sobs ripping their way out of me as my head swims. The sadness doesn't seem to have any end, it just keeps on coming, each second as unbearable as the last. But I can feel Ash stroking my hair, murmuring indistinct words into my ears. I snuggle into him, letting his touch soothe me.

This time, the tears stop quickly. I look up blearily, trying to ignore the pounding of my head, to see Ash looking at me with that fatherly concern. It's the look in his eyes, it tells me that he's got me and I'm safe, because he won't let me go. I never knew how much I missed that feeling.

My father is dead. And so is my demon. But I don't feel the same guilt I did moments ago.

It took me so long to realise the abusive man I lived with wasn't the same as the caring one I forgot. I finally have the chance to mourn my dad, a chance I never had while his body still lived.

And it hurts beyond any of the punches I've taken. But I know I'm not alone any more. I've got Ash, my hero, and his friends.

"I think you need to rest a while, Hazel." His quiet tone wakes me from my thoughts, and I smile up at him despite the throbbing headache and the fact that salty water is once again slipping from my brown eyes.

"Thank you." I crane up, and plant a kiss on his cheek. He smiles as I slip down again, resting my tired head comfortably in the crook of his arm, and I feel myself dozing off instantly.

"Any time. Now you go to sleep, you've worn yourself out. Don't worry, I'll be here." I hear the voice reply. I squeeze into the warm embrace even tighter, letting myself drift off into welcome oblivion. As sleep sweeps me away, my lips murmur a last subconscious comment.

"Thank you, dad….."

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Well, hope that solved a few mysteries, although I've got plenty more up my sleeve yet...anyway, see you soon.

Please R&R!

Dan.


	15. Under the Waning Moon

Well, next chapter done. Quick by my standards, but not fast enough for many, according to some reviews;; Next time I write, I'm going to finish the whole thing before posting the first chapter, to prevent long delays. At least it's not a year this time...

Thanks to Sarah for giving this the once-over and for her help, and also to Smileyaili for giving me more than one kick to get me going again. Also thanks to all those who reviewed, I hope that this chapter keeps you interested.

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Chapter 14 – Under the Waining Moon

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It's getting late. And I can see a certain person getting anxious. We've been friends and comrades for six years, so I can read him like a book. But I think anyone can see the clear worry on his face. It's only when you look deeper, into the eyes and around them, you see the tiredness which I've failed to spot until now. I never quite realised how much we've all put him thorough, not until Cyndaquil laid the law down this morning in the clearest way possible. At the time I was angry, and I couldn't see what he was getting at for the blinkers that my temper forces me to wear. But as the day wore on, and I mooched out of his sight but not out of my hearing, I listened to the story which I had had a leading role in being told by someone else, someone with a different viewpoint. And I must admit I was ignorant of the part I was playing, too wound up and thirsting for an outlet for my wanton blood lust to actually see what was going on before my eyes. And look at where that's got us all. Especially Ash. He was so spent that he even went to the twittering three for help. Not that they twitter any more.

It hurt, what I heard. It still hurts now. I spent hours this afternoon sat in a nearby park, near to the fountain as I could get without becoming a target for someone ambitious with a pokeball. Just thinking over the events of the morning. Learning first from Cyndaquil how far he thought things had gone, and then the no-holds-barred synopsis of the last month.

I didn't know that Misty had spent the night before last telling Ash her life story in a crazed state. I didn't know Hazel had tried to seduce him. I didn't know that Misty has had problems like this before. I didn't know a lot of things. And some of them were blindingly obvious to anyone who was listening to anyone but herself. All these facts really stung. That I'd never given my best friend the chance to tell me these things stung. That I'd never asked, or even noticed...

And then my personal war with Chikorita. That came up, oh yes. He even mentioned what happened three years ago, and how he found such similarities with now. That really shook me up. Last time, I didn't see it coming. After the fact, I swore that I had learnt my lesson. Yet now I would have hurtled head-first into the very same situation again, and then what? Another person spending months in hospital? Or worse? I couldn't believe my ears. That really struck deep.

But the worst, the very worst thing I can remember hearing, is my friend and partner bursting into tears and knowing, without a hint of doubt, that it's at least partly my fault.

I think something died within me at that moment.

("She'll be back soon, I'm sure.") Cyndaquil isn't referring to Chikorita. I'm sure Ash is worried about her too, but it's someone else that is causing him to stare out the window at the dipping sun like an old man watching a clock tick the last seconds of his life away.

"Yeah. Like you said an hour ago." He sits on Hazels' bed, which is occupied by the brown-haired girl currently snoring away, and grasps her hand nervously. I still don't know what is going on there, when I got back she was sleeping in Ashs' lap. I would have asked, but I felt a low profile was the way to go.

("Easy. Misty won't do anything stupid.") Cyndaquil replies, but everyone in the room who is conscious can tell he doesn't really believe it. After what I've heard, I certainly don't.

"Uhhhh..." Hazel stirs, putting a hand to her head and giving out a long, shuddering groan. The raven-haired trainer quickly scoops her up, and cradles her tenderly.

"Hazel, how are you feeling?" A pair of slightly red eyes open.

"Gah, like a Snorlax is sitting on my head." A tiny smile breaks out on his face, and I feel a pang of sadness. He hasn't picked me up with that much care for so long, or smiled that smile...

I suddenly want to get away from what I'm seeing, away from the reminder of how things used to be between me and him. A few quick hops and I'm into the bathroom, nudging the door with my foot. Leaping up onto the edge of the sink I peer into the mirror. Trying to work out what has gone wrong.

("What are you running off for?") Cyndaquil slips into the room, knocking the door firmly this time so it closes.

("Hey, don't come barging in here, it's a bathroom!") My diminutive friend visibly shrugs.

("Come off it Pikachu, that's a human excuse. When you grow up in the wild you don't care for niceties like those.") I glare at him.

("I've been living in the civilised world for years. I hold more in kind with this world than the one I was born into.") He pauses, and looks thoughtful for a second.

("Well, I never thought of that.") He smiles up at me. ("Guess I'm still learning. Although I do like the food and luxuries, etiquette is a pain in the ass, no mistake.") I find myself smiling in response, and hopping down to join him on the blue tiles.

("Can't argue with you.")

("That's a change.") I'm floored by the no-nonsense response. After a second of suspense I can feel my face heating up.

("Don't come in here and start with me now. You made things perfectly clear earlier.") I spring back up onto the edge of the sink, and look into the mirror again. ("I want a little peace. If all you want to do is berate me, push off.") I finish frostily. From somewhere down below I hear a soft sigh, and then silence. Silence is fine, although absence would be better. I examine my appearance carefully, if for no other reason than to try and ignore him. My cheeks are deep, deep red, far more so than normal. Both through overload of energy and mood. Misty always said she knew when I was happy, because my cheeks would be the shade of ripe cherries. But now they're a deep, blood red. Aside from that, I just look flat. Dark eyes that have no sparkle, lank canary hair without lustre.

The question comes back to mind.

_How has it come to this?_

("What?") I realise I've just spoken my last thought aloud, and Cyndaquil has pricked his ears. But, strangely, it doesn't push me back into my shell.

("How has it come to this?") I reach up with a paw and brush my leaden cheeks, wincing at the feeling of tension within them. ("Not so long ago, we were stood triumphant together after winning a world tournament. Now...") I trail off, not really looking at my reflection any more.

("Things change.") Comes a quiet reply. I find myself snarling silently, frustrated by Cyndaquils apparent indifference.

("Why should they? We were happy! We had all we wanted in life!") I hurl myself down onto the floor tiles, cheeks sparkling with anger. ("And now, this. An endless stream of bitter fighting. But I can't stop, damn it!")

("What has brought all this on?") Comes a surprised sounding reply. ("Twelve hours ago, you were just about ready to go ballistic and beat a certain person into submission, maybe beyond, without an ounce of conscience.")

("Twelve hours ago I was blind as a fucking bat, Cyndaquil.") I take a long breath, feeling energy drain away until I'm under control again, and that hollow emptiness refills my chest. ("But then the dark glasses came off at the gym. You might not have seen me for two hours, but it doesn't mean I couldn't hear you.") I glance to him and see a look that almost says 'ah' spread across his face.

("It's good to look through someone else's eyes now and then.") His voice hardens. ("Especially if you refuse to see with your own. Come on, didn't you think, realise, that all this was getting to him, and to me? Ash isn't the only one who has had to act referee between you two, y'know.")

("I did, in the in-between moments, I did.") I scuff the floor with a foot, feeling remorse settle on me like a cloak. ("But I just get pissed, god-damn it! I know what I'm doing, then one word out of place, and bang! Red mist. It doesn't matter what she says, Chikorita is like a red rag to a bull. I don't know what it is, about her. She's selfish, possessive, argumentative and temperamental.") I pause, taking a sad breath before continuing. ("And so am I. We both want the same things, and neither of us give an inch. It just adds up.")

("Well, you're being honest with yourself.") Cyndaquil looks me in the eyes, firmly. ("But there's a big difference between you and her. One that worries you...") I feel myself sputtering in defiance.

("What? What are you talking abou-") My dark friend silences me with the stamp of a foot, one that resounds around the bathroom.

("Pikachu. My final wish is that you finally admit it, stop bloody lying to me and yourself.") I feel ready to tell him to stuff his wish, that I don't care any more. But I owe it to him, and to myself, to answer.

("Okay. I know. And I hate you for making me say this.") A deep, shuddering breath. ("I'm a maniac, okay? A psychopath, a killer. There now, happy?") I snap fiercely, barely below a scream.

("That's not right, and you know it.") Cyndaquils' admonishing reply just sparks my voice to greater volume.

("I want to _hurt_ people. I want to make Chikorita suffer, make her cry out in pain, every time she opens her stupid mouth. I want to fight, maim, destroy. I want others to fight with me, and against me. To know and cherish the pain I inflict on others. I almost want to KILL, god-damn it!") I finish with a screech.

("You just want to do what you're good at.") Hah, you must be joking.

("What does that make me? Some kind of fighting machine? Someone who needs to cause pain just to make her life worth living? Well, that's exactly what I am. I may not like it, but that doesn't change the fact. Meet the Terminator, now sporting a fresh new look. Hell, I should rent myself out, become a mercenary for hire.") I'm cackling madly, so lost that I don't notice Cyndaquils' swinging paw until it hits me. On instinct I flip away as it strikes, and counter with a thunderbolt that knocks him clean across the room.

("Yow! Jesus!") I put a paw to my mouth in horror as he hauls himself slowly to his back feet, and meticulously dusts himself down. Eventually he straightens up and looks at me carefully. ("You know, you needed that smack. I don't need another hysteric scene right now. Maybe I should've expected retaliation.")

("Ah, damn, I'm sorry! I wish I could say I don't know why that happened, but I can't, if that makes any sense, it doesn't does it?") He waves me into silence.

("Pikachu, you're rambling again.") I think my horror at what I just did is pretty obvious, as he sighs and shuffles back over to me. ("We're all pretty brassed off right now. But you bring it out in a different way.")

("That's my point! I can't talk, I just fight!")

("That's not true. You're talking right now.") I hiss in frustration.

("Only after blasting you clean across the room.") He shrugs.

("At least you are.") I close my eyes, and shake my head bitterly, ears laying flat to my head.

("This is getting us nowhere. I can't even say for sure why I'm so damn angry all the time. I mean I'm used to fighting, but I've gone long periods before now without getting a craving to beat someone senseless. But this is different, I'm a walking land mine. Step on me and I'll blow.") I sound just like I feel, utterly defeated.

("Have you told Ash any of this? I thought not.") Cyndaquil puffs out his cheeks, before sitting down and apparently making himself comfortable. ("Why not? We used to be tight, close, all of us. Why haven't you taken the time to sit down and just chew the fat about life with someone? Like now.")

("Because he's busy, we're all busy. With Misty, Hazel and everything...") I trail off, and we sit in silence on the shiny blue floor for what feels like hours. Then, Cyndaquil pipes up again.

("What about me?") Damn. What about him?

("I, uh, gawd, I know it sounds awful, but I just didn't think of it.") I feel uncomfortable, and guilty. Some friend I am.

("I'm not surprised.") Uh, pardon?

("What do you mean?")

("Well, tell me why you came in here a few minutes ago.") He smiles at my obvious discomfort. ("It's because of what was happening out there, right? I could see the look in your eyes. You were watching Ash cradling Hazel with the face of someone who has just been told they have six weeks to live. You were thinking of when you were held in exactly the same way. Am I right, or am I right?") I stare at the floor, silent. Eventually, I give a slow, resigned nod.

("Yeah.")

("That's why you're so angry now. You wanted to come in here, close the door and dream about better days. But I didn't let you.") This sudden inquisition leaves me feeling like someone who's been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. ("You never thought of me because you were too busy thinking of him.") I don't know how Cyndaquil is striking so close to the mark, but I suddenly feel like I have to tell him my truth before he stabs it dead on with a guess.

("I just feel so left out. It used to be me and him, with Misty, and Brock. Then came Chikorita. Then you. Even then, it was okay. And now Hazel. So much has changed.") I exhale slowly, letting my mind drift back to better memories. ("I remember, the time I knew what happiness was. But now, well, the memory is fading. He's got no time, I've got no sparkle. I miss him. He's here, and so am I, but I miss him.") I chuckle morosely, shaking my head gently. ("Nah, that makes no sense.")

("It makes perfect sense.") My dark friend looks up to the ceiling. ("That's how I feel now and then. That's how Ash feels too. I never told you this, but when we were out in the wilderness, we said the same thing. I remember how he put it – 'I've never felt so surrounded, yet so alone.' - I know exactly what he meant.")

("But what can I do? I don't want things to go on like this.")

("Tell him about it. He needs help right now, we all do. Just be there for him. Then he'll come to you.") Cyndaquil smiles, and heads for the door. ("Burying the hatchet with Chikorita wouldn't hurt either.")

("I don't think I could do that just now.") My friend looks back over his shoulder, with a hint of disapproval. ("I know what you mean, but I can't deal with her. Not tonight at least.") He holds my gaze for a moment longer, before shrugging and turning away again.

("Okay. But remember, you can't ignore it forever. I know there's two sides to it, but both sides have to give peace a chance. I'll be having words with her too, but I can't make you sort all this shit out. You've got to do it in the end. And if you don't, then, well, you know what will happen then.") He leaps up, and pulls the handle down while kicking the door open. ("So come on out when you're ready, with a smile if you can manage it. But I hope you're ready soon, I know someone will notice if you're not.") With that, he's gone. I stare at the gap he just slipped through, mind working overtime. A smile, hmmm?

("Might as well see if I still can.") I murmur to myself, and jump up to the sink for the third time since I came in. I stare at the furry yellow creature staring back at me, and then watch it crack a smile. Crack is probably the right word, it's a tragic sight, like watching an impeccable statue cut from crystal glass shatter. Well, it's better than nothing. I decide that gurning at my reflection isn't going to help either, so I hop back down onto the blue floor, idly noting that I don't really need to jump up to the mirror to check how I look. All I have to do in future is look into the overly shiny tiles to find out. But that's a thought for another day.

I inhale slowly, and exhale even more slowly, before heading through the doorway and back into the bedroom. Time to start over.

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Chikorita returned a few moments ago, right after Pikachu waltzed out of the bathroom after exchanging views quite loudly with Cyndaquil. I couldn't make out what was said, since Hazel still holds my attention. She's better, I think, although I do wonder why she called me 'dad' as she slipped into dreamland earlier. For the last ten minutes she's been telling me about how, when she was little, she used to ride her father like a Rapidash. Well, more a Ponyta, but the idea is the same. It's strange, how sometimes memory can be better than the real thing. No doubt, Hazel will really come around to what's happened, and accept that this was, all in all, for the best. Cold of me to think it, but there you are. I've known people who have fallen that far, yet never known one to reprieve their crimes in the end. I would have ripped the man limb from limb for what he did, what he would have gone on doing. Maybe involved the police, maybe just made sure he would never think of going near Hazel again, and then left him to rot. Verbal and physical abuse, coupled to little perversions that might not have stayed so little as the last barriers of restraint were breaking down.

It's enough to make me sick.

"And then, one time, he accidentally bucked me off, and sent me flying into my grans lap. Her tea went everywhere! Luckily I didn't get burned, 'cause she always liked her tea cold, which I never really got since cold tea tastes horrible and makes me wanna gag..." But I'm not going to spoil Hazels' reminiscence. I can see in her pink-tinged brown eyes that she wants to remember the good before the bad, at least for now. Reality will come. But I won't wake her from the dream, not while she's smiling.

("Hey, where's Misty?") Chikorita finally realises that we're down on numbers, and asks the question I wish I knew the answer to.

"Who cares?" Hazel flippantly responds, stopping her serenade on riding family members. At this, I feel a twinge of something, not anger as such, but my grip on the brown-haired girls' shoulder tightens slightly. Something that stills her instantly.

"I do." The one sat in my lap rapidly turns red.

"Uh, I'm sorry Ash, I didn't mean it, really. I just do it, it's outta my mouth before I know it's there."

"I know. But try to think first. One day you might say something you really regret." Hazel looks ashamed for a moment, before snapping back into her usual manner with a cheery nod.

("I hope everyone here is listening...") Cyndaquil murmurs snidely, shooting looks at the other two pokemon. Chikorita seems baffled, but Pikachu just fixes him with a stare, eventually followed by a slight tilt of her head.

"So where is she?" The dark-haired girl asks the room. The room doesn't answer.

"I don't know, wish I did." I reply, worry gnawing at me like a starving rat. All is quiet, as no-one seems to know what to say.

("I think you do.") Until Pikachu pipes up. I look at her, confused.

"I just said I didn't." She smiles up at me.

("Come on, who knows Misty better than you?") When I don't answer, the smile gets bigger. ("Really, you do know. Think. If there was one place she'd go, where would it be?")

"To the gy – no, no. She'd go to the sea. She always has." Pikachu nods.

("And the one place she'd want to go above all others?") Oh, yes. Her favourite place on earth.

"The cape. She's at the cape." I see the eyes of Chikorita and Cyndaquil light up in understanding, as they get it too.

("Yeah, makes sense.") Hazel rests back against me, adjusting herself in my lap.

"So we gonna wait here, let her come to us, or you gonna go to her?" I didn't even need to ask myself the question.

"I'm going." With a sigh, Hazel gets off my lap.

"Okay. But I'm going to miss my favourite seat." I have to smile at her pout.

"Don't worry, he'll be back." I reach over to my dark blue jacket which is laying limp on my bed, and pull it on. "Anyone else coming?"

("I'll stay here. If we all go it'll just be uncomfortable.") Cyndaquil hops up onto the space vacated by my coat.

("Me too. Don't think I'll help any.") Chikorita adds, while clicking the kettle on with a vine. I think she's more interested in finding out what has been going on with Hazel.

"Ah, I'll sit this one out. She'd more likely jump in the sea if I was there." Hazel answers honestly, curling up on her own bed. Finally, I look at Pikachu. She seems to be fighting an inward battle over something. Eventually, she looks up.

("I'd, uh, like to, but I think I'll be in the way. I'd feel better about you walking through Cerulean at night if someone was with you though...") I look at my yellow friend as she fidgets on the aquamarine carpet, and feel a stab of shame. She shouldn't have to do this, talk herself into staying when she so badly wants to come.

"Hop aboard." I say simply, kneeling down before her. Her mahogany eyes light up with delight, and in a flash she's on my shoulder, slotting in there like she'd never left it. I see Chikoritas' face darken, but she keeps her thoughts to herself. She's already declined to come as it is.

"Tell her that I'll even promise not to insult her if she stops being a silly mare and comes in outta the cold." I just smile a little at that comment, although the brief flicker of good mood that lit inside me is rapidly dying out. The thought of Misty out there somewhere, and the way she must be feeling to not come back before nightfall..."

("Let's go, Ash.") Pikachu presses her cheek to mine, whispering quietly.

"Yeah." I murmur back, before casting a 'goodbye' as I slip out into the corridor, hearing three well-wishing replies as the door closes behind me. My pace quickens without conscious thought as I head for the stairs. I don't want to make her wait.

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A figure sits, forlorn, on a park bench. Beneath the light of the waning moon, normally iridescent hair is just a swathe of monochrome, and eyes once bubbling with life lie flat as the Cerulean sea that they gaze out over, waters resting mirror-like in the dead calm night.

Another figure stands nearby, a smaller shape at it's side. Without a word exchanged, the diminutive shadow moves away, to a spot looking back at the city, while the larger one moves cautiously towards the bench. It stops a few feet away, as if seeking permission. When no response is forthcoming, it sits anyway.

"I've been waiting for you." He says.

"Oh." Comes her reply. The two sit in silence which is anything but companionable for what seems like an eternity to them both. Eventually, he turns to face her, examining her face, which is still resolutely turned to the horizon. Whatever he finds there doesn't please him, as the sigh escaping his mouth speaks volumes.

"I've been worried. It's not like you to stay out all day and all night."

"I wanted to think." The girl answers, voice gruff and stony as her face.

"But until nearly midnight?"

"Lot of thinking to do." Both figures return to staring out across the sea, although neither really seeing the moon which bathes them in an eerie, ghostly glow.

"What about?" The man's voice again, leaden with emotion.

"Oh, things."

"Things?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Once again, that screaming silence. The short-haired figure slides ever-so-slightly closer to the other, and almost has to choke back tears as his friend slides not-so-slightly further away from him. Another hiatus. Then the masculine tone once more, this time with an edge of pleading.

"Please, please don't do this -"

"I'm not doing anything! I'm sitting here! You're the one who's sidling up to me, sticking your nose in where it's going to get broken!" A furious shriek rips the air of tranquillity apart. "So why don't you go back to our jolly bedsit and snog my petite replacement!" A pause, dripping with hostility.

"She's nobody's replacement. She's Hazel. Not you." Several deep, ragged breaths punctuate yet another pause. Then the female voice, this time tuned down to a guttural moan.

"Well, substitute or replacement, either way, you're better off with her than me." At this the young man jerks as if stung.

"Don't say that, never say that." He leans over towards the girl, who is now deliberately looking away. "Why should I not want to be with you? The one I - "

"Because I'm a stinking worthless fucking failure, that's why!" The young lady cries, composure cracking and despair clear as crystal in her voice. "You should have seen it today! All I knew was my name! Every question, like trying to pick a single snowflake from a blizzard! I could almost feel them looking at me, those others in that hall. Hear them silently laugh, laugh at the pitiful excuse for a person dying a thousand deaths in their midst as they soared in the sky like stars!" She breaks off, inhaling like she's taking a long, deep drag on an invisible cigarette. "And you know the worst thing about it? I thought, actually thought, I could be one of them. But the truth will out, sure as the sun rises. I'm a failure, a nothing."

"You're not a nothing." Comes the sincere reply. Without warning, the long-haired girl rounds on the boy, gaunt face wild and furious, yet strangely beautiful, in the pale glow.

"I'm not a nothing! Let's see, I've given up on the gym, given up on being a water master, now proven myself utterly worthless at becoming a nurse too! All I've done is follow you around like a fucking dog for years." This brings out a gasp from her friend, but it doesn't halt the verbal torrent cascading from the slight girls mouth. "Now, what do I have to show for it all, to prove my worth? Nothing. That makes me a failure."

"Nothing? What about the memories? The experiences? The friendship?" The only response to the mans plea is a derisory chuckle that carries no humour whatsoever.

"Can I pin my friendship on a wall? Can I add the memories to a CV? That means shit to everyone else." The moon illuminates twin tear tracks on her face, which shine like winter frost beneath the silvery glow. "I'm nothing in my sisters eyes. I'm nothing in my parents eyes. I'm nothing in my citys eyes. I'm nothing in the eyes of anyone _with_ eyes!" As she cries the final word the girl breaks into heaving sobs, leaning gently into the embrace offered to her.

"Not in my eyes." A gentle hand reaches up and strokes the tears from the girls face, although it is an exercise in futility as they are instantly replaced by more. "Never in my eyes." The raven-haired one sighs as he feels his jacket grow damp where his friend has buried her face into it, fighting his own treacherous eyes which, against his will, are threatening to overflow.

"But why? I'm not pretty, I'm not successful, I'm not even a candle to the shining stars that my sisters are." The young man twitches, but his distraught companion is too mired in her minds darkness to notice. "You'd be better off with someone like that, someone who can look you in the eye, someone who won't be a lead weight. Someone who won't drag you from your path to pursue phantom dreams." Her voice is now just a feeble wail, sobs dying into whimpers, but in a way all the more plaintive.

"But you're you. And that's what matters." The boy dashes his face with the back of a sleeve, trying to hide the fact he lost his personal battle. "Everything else is just words on paper. If I wanted you to go, do you think I would have come out here to get you?"

"...No..." The slight figure pulls herself in tighter to the other, almost as if in fear that if she lets go he'll escape. "But I still don't know why you came..." The two stare out across the placid sea, their hands linked, breathing in synchrony. Eventually, the young man sighs.

"Come on, it's time we went." A pair of moist aquamarine eyes look up to meet hazel, pleading evident in them.

"Can we just stay for a few more minutes? Please?" Another sigh, and a pause, this one comfortable.

"Just a few more then." A silken rustle of clothing, then the girl feels something warm slide around her shoulders. "But I'm not having you catching a chill on me." This spoken with a wry smile, and more than a touch of tenderness. She moves yet closer to him, close enough to hear each breath. For a minute that lasts a month, the two just stare at the moon, hung motionless in the cool night air. Eventually, Misty speaks.

"How did you know where to find me?" Her voice is barely a whisper, like a breath of wind in the still darkness.

"I just went to your favourite place." Ash replies with a languid smile, not taking his eyes off the moon.

"Oh..." The pair go back to gazing at the sky. In the darkness, just a few yards away, a small figure smiles.

("It's a small step, but a step none the less.") Pikachu murmurs to herself, before joining her friends in their stargazing.

All journeys begin with the first step...

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Cyndaquil can certainly make a good cup of tea. At least I think so...

"More sugar!" Hazel proclaims, shovelling a further spoonful of the white granules from the bag perched precariously on the edge of the bed beside her, before dumping the lot into her mug. The cups they provide here aren't exactly huge, and I'd swear on my life that you couldn't physically fit any more sugar in, even if there was no tea in it before hand. But no, she stirs quickly a few times before taking a tentative sip. This is odd, as normally if a cup of tea isn't at almost boiling point, Hazel will drink it so fast it doesn't touch the sides of her throat.

"Better now?" Cyndaquil asks, with a touch of humour. His reply is a couple of rapid nods, before the drink is, inevitably, drained in one gluttonous gulp.

A pause.

A belch.

"Oh yeah." The brown-haired girl wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. And then looks into the empty cup (which just happens to be blue) with a pitiful expression. I can't say I've ever actually seen a kicked puppy, but I expect that they look a lot like Hazel does now. It takes only seven seconds for my dark furred friend to submit, and go to make her another with a mumbled 'oh, alright then'. As he hefts up our kettle (which stands out, being the only yellow thing in a blue room) and staggers off to re-fill it (it's bigger than he is) I take a rather more dainty sip of my drink. And give Hazel a careful eye.

("You'll get indigestion if you keep drinking like that") She shrugs, grinning a little too much.

"Ah, who cares? It was too nice to mess about drinkin' politely!" This statement (which must be blindingly hilarious) sends her into a fit of hysterics, and she rocks over onto her back to laugh at the ceiling.

Something's wrong here, I know it is. Hazels' cheer is going way over the top, even by her standards. It might be the sugar talking, but even so. In the short time I've known her, it's pretty clear that more worked up she is the more extreme her moods. And right now, well, she's almost insanely happy.

And I'm worried.

("One cup of tea coming right up.") Cyndaquil perches the now full kettle on its plugged in stand and clicks it on. ("Now, I might actually get a chance to drink my own.") He adds with a chuckle, one which sends the prone Hazel into a fresh fit of convulsions. I give him a 'what's up with her?' look, and get a 'not for me to tell' look back.

"Ah, you crack me up." Hazel swings back up into a sitting position, face pink, eyes watering. "Hah, so, where's me tea?"

("Afraid you'll have to wait for the water to boil. The laws of physics aren't ones that you can break easily.")

"Why don't you heat the water? It'd be quicker." Hazel asks.

("Because it'd melt the kettle, burn the wallpaper and probably set of the fire alarms.")

"Fair enough."

("I think so. Besides, it'll be done in just a minute.") The slim girl on the bed passes her cup down, and as the 'waiter' takes hold of it I see a half-inch of sugar sludge loitering like a grimer in the bottom of it, which turns my stomach. It brought to mind a semi-dissolved slug I'd come across once when a disgruntled gardener decided she wanted her plants to be unmolested this spring. Not a slugma, which would toast anyone who would think of salting it, but a common old garden one which was half-buried, and half-gone, under a white powder mountain. Slimy, wet and horrible, yet somehow eerily still alive... No, forget it, think of the happy flowers, the happy flowers, the pretty flowers...

"Nah, leave it, it tastes better that way." Cyndaquil shrugs and sets the cup down, turning his attention to the now steaming kettle. I keep half an eye on Hazels' cup, just in case the sugar sludge slug manages to channel a spirit of one of it's dissolved brothers and decides to make a break for freedom. The sound of water getting hotter, a gentle hiss gradually becoming a bubbling boiling is the only sound in the room until a click signals it's ready. I drag the three cups closer, and then the two of us, with teamwork borne both from several years together and making countless hot drinks, manage to empty the boiling water from a container as big as either of us into the teapot without any third degree burns. Cyndaquil peers into the pot, and then decides to add a teabag, before going to add milk to the (mostly) empty cups. I eye the sludge one more time, and, deciding that it's probably going to stay dead, look up at Hazel.

And realise she stopped laughing too long ago for her eyes to still be wet, or her face still red.

"Ah, crap, sorry about this." She mumbles, voice breaking. I quickly hoist myself up onto the bed with my vines, knocking the bag of sugar to the floor and creating a mini-landslide on the carpet.

("What have you got to be sorry about?") Hazel turns to me, still crying.

"Nothing really. Apart from killin' your own dad." It takes a good few seconds to work this one out.

("He's died? When?") The young girl sniffs.

"While I was away. Went back up there, but it was like a new house. Got told by the woman downstairs, they carried him out yesterday." She leans forwards, and her dark brown hair washes across her face, but I can see the tears through the strands. Everything suddenly makes a lot more sense. Her severe moods, Ash treating her with kid gloves.

("What happened?")

"I dunno, he was carried out, that's all I know about it. Maybe if I hadn't gone running off into the mountains, he would still be with me..." This lights something within me, something that burns brightly.

("No! Don't ever go down that road!") I realise that I've screamed those words, and that I'm searching for breath while Cyndaquil and Hazel look at me with astonishment in their eyes. But I don't regret the vehemence, not at all.

("What do you mean?") Cyndaquil asks, ignoring the teapot and focusing only on me.

("I know that parents don't always mean the best for their children.") My dark blue friend just stares at me while Hazel asks the inevitable question.

"How do you know that?" I bristle a little, and reply with more anger than I intended.

("Because your dad is a perfect example.") Seeing her face soften a little, I continue. ("But also because I remember, it happened to me...")

_The first time I saw the sky. I knew I was supposed to stay out of sight, my parents had told me something like that, but I just crept up to the light that had dazzled me for what could have been forever, just through curiosity. And saw my world was more than a dark little hole. I couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. But I still think I somehow grasped the sheer size of life, just by seeing that scene. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the intensity of the light, something beyond my dreams crept into focus. A field. Stretching out far beyond my view, with every colour I could imagine. Lurid shades, grass and flowers rippling in a gentle breeze, ocean-like..._

("I was sent back underground by my parents. I'd seen life as it should be, and as it really is. But they decided their opinion was the best, and fought me while I tried to see the sky again, just for a single breath of fresh air. Then, when the world was opened to me, they refused to let me live in it, stubbornly claiming me as one of their own and so chained to them. Eventually, I gave in until I grew old enough to move outside their reach, but not before they threatened to beat me into submission.") I'm amazed how calm my voice is. But now, after everything that has happened, I no longer feel their pressure. Except when someone is trying to force me into a Pokeball...

"But I did it, I sent him down -"

("No, he sent himself!") I pause for breath. ("He did what he did knowing the consequences. I'm sure Ash would have beaten the living daylights out of him. To be honest, dying was the best thing he could have done.")

"Why?" Hazels' completely distraught, her voice like a prayer. "He could have come back! I could have brought him back. He wasn't gone, no, just lost, if I'd stayed by him, then maybe, maybe..."

("Maybe what? Maybe he'd change, snap back into his old self? Not a chance, sister. Life ain't like that.") I stop, reigning in my temper at the utterly lost look in Hazels' eyes. They speak of the kind of despair I hope I never have to endure. She doesn't need to be shouted at at a time like this. ("Look, if I'd chosen to do nothing, hoped for a change of heart, where might I be? Still under their thumb, only living the life they allowed me. Not here. I'd never have achieved, never really lived!") I give her a soft smile, and am delighted when she replies with one, albeit shaky and weak from a face that is flushed and wet with tears.

"Yeah, I guess.. Hoped that maybe if I left him for a while he'd really wake up, he'd have to wake up. Really wake up. Seemed to me he was just asleep all those years, and he might wake up one day." Sadness tugs at her lower lip, and yet more water leaks from her eyes.

("He wasn't asleep. He just had his eyes closed, and he was the one that chose not to open them.") Cyndaquils' brisk voice surprises me, I'd almost forgotten he was here. Hazel sniffs a few times next to me, and he sighs as she then breaks out into fresh sobs. But he continues none the less. ("I know it's painful to hear, but you need to all the same. I don't think you could have brought him round, it's not like on the TV. He made his bed, and buried himself under the covers for too many years. Even if you'd pulled his head out, all he'd see would be four walls, nothing to keep him from hiding again.")

"B-but what about m-m-me!" Whimpers the girl at my side. My dark friend sighs again, and then signals to me that he wants to come up. I use my vines to hoist him onto her other side, silently praying he knows what he's doing. I wouldn't have pushed things this far.

("You wouldn't do.") I decide to step in, he's going just too far.

("Cyndaquil, give it a rest, leave it - ")

("You wouldn't do because when he sees you, he sees what he lost.") I stop my complaints. Hazel stops crying. It's as if the whole world is drawing breath. After an eternally long moment, he continues. ("He sees you, he sees what might have been.")

"But I know, I know he blames me for what happened, he'd tell me time and again." Cyndaquil slowly shakes his head.

("No, I don't think that's quite it. He blamed you because when you blame the world you can't tell if it's listening. You remind him. Of his wife and family. Of his dreams and ambition. Of how life could be. And he hates it, he knows that he let it pass him by. When he lost the Gym battle, he let everything go. Don't you think he could have made his move after the shit hit the fan with Mistys parents and all the scandal that followed? Or when the running of the gym was left to four young girls? But he just pulled the blankets tighter around him, and pretended he wasn't letting life pass him by.") I glance across at my diminutive friend, and give him a tiny nod. Well done, Cyndaquil. He's sharp as cut diamond, and most of the time you'd never notice, he's just on the edge of things taking notes. But when he puts things together, he's, well, _scary_.

"I guess. I just never wanted to believe it." Hazel sniffles yet again, still very upset. But, I can see somewhere in there that, amongst the desolation, is a flicker of thought, the hint of wheels starting to turn. "But I still miss him..."

("Ah, too many tears tonight.") My partner hops down onto the carpet, and pours out three hot cups of tea with his usual élan. ("I usually find this helps.") He adds, lifting the now full cup up towards the still tearful girl beside me, who takes it with what might, with a bit of imagination, be called a chuckle, although normally chuckles are dry and this noise far too wet to qualify.

"Thanks." She takes a sip as Cyndaquil hands me mine, and then frowns. "Hmmm, not quite right."

("Let me guess, more sugar?") At her nod, I point to the white anthill still sat on the otherwise very blue carpet. ("Might have difficulty with that.")

("Let's see if I can salvage some.")

"Nah, it's okay, this cup's fine. Plenty of sludge in there to sweeten it up." She takes a big mouthful, and another, and another. And we now have an empty cup again.

A pause.

"Buuuuurp. Ah, that was nice." She holds the empty cup down to Cyndaquil, whose smile is now somewhat frozen. "But for the next one, yes, I'd like some sugar. Lots, actually."

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I don't know what time it is, but it's late. Late enough to be early, maybe. It's certainly been hours since I came in through that door, into a room filled with half-smiles and awkward silences. I'm thankful enough that Hazel was comatose on her bed, to me snoring is easily preferable to conversation. I could tell that Chikorita didn't know what to say, and I bet Cyndaquil was holding his tongue too. I decided to go to bed before someone worked up the nerve to start asking questions, and lay down facing the wall without even changing out of my clothes. Thankfully, everyone else managed to pick up the obvious clue, and left me alone. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want to be with anyone either. It wasn't long afterwards that the lights went out, and it wasn't long after that that the only audible sound was the tidal in-out-in-out of breathing at rest, like waves lapping at the shore. But sleep is not a mistress who visits me often, she remains elusive as knowledge to my muddled mind.

So now, in the deepest depths of the night, I sit looking out of the window, trying to ignore the pain. Pain in my head, as it begs for the release of rest. Pain in my stomach, as it demands satisfaction. Pain in my heart, as it is twisted and torn like a woman condemned to death by horses and chains. The first pain I ignore, it is not one I can solve. The second I abhor, it is only a weakness to be controlled. The third, the third...

I don't know what to do. I tried writing in my diary, but no words came. In the end, I just signed it. 'I love you. Goodbye.' I don't know exactly why. But it felt right. Like I wasn't just finishing a journal, but drawing a line under my life. Discarding all that went before, and facing the future.

The problem is, the future is empty.

I spoke with Ash, sat with him under the waning moon, and for a short while I could see something waiting for me. Yet a few hours later it was a year ago to me. I feel so tired again, the tiny light that flared into life extinguished as a match beneath a waterfall.

All the same, something is different now.

Before, I was drowning. Exhausted and alone in the open ocean, waiting to join Atlantis. Now, just maybe, there's a flicker of hope. Maybe the cry of a gull, the hint of land on the horizon. Still too far, beyond reach. But it is there.

I'm still a failure, still worthless. I can't see why Ash wants to know me, why he can't cut the umbilical cord and let me go. I feed off him, a parasite that lives through another's toil. But he endures, and won't do the cruel but kind thing, put me out of my misery.

I let my sight drift into the room and drift across him, seeing him peaceful in the grip of slumber. I suppose if life were poetic he'd be dreaming right now, unconsciously calling out my name in a voice laced with desire or desperation. Or he'd stir, awaken, and look over at me, in silent concern, or maybe with unblemished love. But no, reality is in charge, he just keeps on sleeping. Besides, I'm glad he's not awake. I don't want to be looked at in that way, not when I know he deserves better than this big lump of neuroses.

Maybe, just maybe, if I can attain respectability by some freak of luck, I could look him in the eye and not blink. But now, no.

Although it felt nice, so nice, to be cuddled up to him, feel his breath on my neck, let my body moulding with his, just for a few moments...

No. I can't. It wouldn't be right.

He's a winner, I'm not.

He'll be famed, I'll be forgotten. He'll be respected, I'll be rejected.

It's the best way. The only way.

I look back out into darkness. I like the dark now, it's a place to hide. It's quiet, it hides flaws all too glaring under a glaring sun. I'm alone beneath it, which is what I should be. Maybe I should wander off into it, get myself lost for good.

No. I can't. It wouldn't be right. I have to see this through, at least until I get confirmation of my failure. Then, maybe, I can cast myself adrift...

I have to stop lying to myself.

I won't go now because I'm a coward. I've never been able to stand on your own. Even when I rode away from my responsibilities, and then ran into a young boy on a river bank, I chose to follow him rather than make my own decisions. Blaming a bike until I didn't need an excuse any more. And, most of all, I won't go because I still hope and pray that, despite all my gaping flaws, I might still might gain his love. And when that is all that is left to hold on to, when every other dream has slipped through feeble hands, it is gripped all the tighter.

My eyes skate back over to the sleeping figure. I just hope that my grip doesn't grow so tight that I strangle him.

Outside, a street lamp dies, signalling the night is drawing to a close. Another day is dawning. All too soon. But the sun will rise ignorant to my wishes. Well, if I close my eyes, maybe I won't have to acknowledge it.

Behind me I hear a bird chirp, and someone in the room stirs.

Well, sayonara solitude. Until tomorrow...

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Well, that's that for now, see you again soon! Please leave a quick review if you have the time

Dan.

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